Chapter Text
Jack Harkness whispered something into the Archbishop’s ear, and took to top of the centre aisle. It took all of his self-control to not whistle through his fingers and to maintain the level of decorum that was proper in the holy space.
“Pardon me,” he said several times. “I respectfully ask you to return to your seats.” He waited for the guests to calm. “For those of you who were unable to see or hear, and are confused about what’s happened, Princess Jeanne Antoinette of Versaillia has accepted the marriage proposals of the Emperor of the Frankish Kingdoms, and has broken her engagement to King John. The wedding has been cancelled.” He bit back a snarky comment.
“However, the King and his fiancée and soulmate, Rose Marion Tyler,” he grinned, “request your presence at the joyous occasion of their wedding at six o’clock this evening, here in Arcadia Abbey. The wedding banquet and ball will immediately follow.”
The congregation clapped, stood, and were then ushered out of the Abbey.
oOo
John ran, tugging Rose through an ancient wooden door that led to the cloisters. The moment they were free from the ears and eyes of the wedding guests, he hugged her around her waist and spun her around. "Woo hoo!!!" He put his hands on her shoulders and grinned. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
"That was amazing!" Rose laughed with her whole heart.
"The best wedding I have ever been to!" He gushed. "It was practically Shakespearean! Lush costuming, grand set design, soul-stirring music, comedy, suspense, drama,” he waggled his eyebrows, “romance. Although too violent for my taste. Can that woman slap! But still, I give it a rousing four stars."
“Did you see the Archbishop? He was having a hard time holding it together. He pretended to cough a few times, but was trying not to laugh.”
“His Grace is a nice man. Plays a mean electric guitar, too. You should hear his Stairway to Heaven.”
Rose threw her head back and laughed. She shook her head and draped her arms around his neck. “This life of yours, is it always like this?”
“Thankfully, nothing quite like what happened back there. But exciting? Yes. I’ve met amazing people, travelled to exotic places. And now we’ll do it together.”
She gasped as he impulsively draped her over his arm with romantic flair.
"Hello." She smiled up at him.
"Hello." He pulled her close--
"You're gonna have to wait for the man in the pointy hat to give the A-OK before the kissin' can start, m'boy." A jovial man with greying hair and a beard trotted up and slapped the King's back.
"Wilf!" John's attention snapped away from her lips, but she was still in his arms. "Rose! This is Donna's granddad!"
"Hello," she said kindly, looking up from her perch across his arm before she stood.
"Ya did good, King, ya did good. Now come here, luv, let me give ya a hug. Me and Lord Copper did a jig right there in the aisle when ya told off that Princess."
Rose flushed, covered her face, and then peeked through her fingers.
"Now none of that. You said what everyone in Gallifrey's been thinking for months now."
"Can't believe I told off the future Frankish Empress. Hope she doesn't declare war or something."
"Naw," drawled John. "She'll be too busy raiding the treasury to worry about that."
"Donna sent me to find you. Mind if I come out of retirement for the day and take the two of you back home? It's started to snow and the future missus here doesn't need to be dragging that pretty dress of hers through the muck."
"You have the old blue Bentley?" asked the King.
He winked. "Of course."
"And you'll take the long way?"
"The longest." Wilf laughed and clapped John on the shoulder. "Follow me."
Wilf took the scenic route back to the palace, meandering around the lake, through the wood, and finally past the main gates.
"Smile and wave to your people, why don't you?" Wilf suggested. "They've been calling for the two of you for hours now, and you ain't even married yet!"
Rose and John rolled the window down, and greeted the crowds with friendly, casual waves before Wilf delivered them to the main entry to the palace. The King's personal staff was standing at the ready in a straight line. Of course, they'd all been trained to keep a straight face, but most were fighting the urge to smile. As Rose greeted each person, their smiles broke through.
Once inside, John led her by the hand — they hadn’t stopped holding hands since they left the cloisters — towards what would become one of their favourite rooms in the palace.
oOo
Sitting at that same kitchen table where their souls had joined, King John X of Gallifrey and Ms. Rose Marion Tyler of London were simply John and Rose. She was wearing a chef’s smock so she wouldn’t make a mess of her dress. They shared a pint and ate fish and chips that had been delivered from John's favourite chippy.
A grin took over Rose's face. "You pulled it off. You actually pulled it off!"
"Naw, it imploded on its own. All we had to do was stand there and watch. But still, everyone got what they wanted in the end. Well," he drawled, "except for Cousin Harry."
“You think he’ll try and pull anything this afternoon?”
“Hope not. I doubt it though. But probably not the last time we’ll hear from him. He’s always got some scheme up his sleeve.”
“So I suppose this is our first date?" Rose asked before she popped a vinegar doused potato wedge into her mouth.
"First and last. Well not last, because I promised to take you all sorts of amazing places."
She frowned for a moment. "I get that we don't need Parliament's approval and all that, but isn't there other official royal stuff? What about a wedding license? Or posting banns?"
He shrugged. “Archbishop’s okay with it. And I suppose it’s one of the perks of being King. Speaking of weddings. I had Jack make an announcement inviting everyone to come back at six. I suspect most will be there, even a few who aren’t our biggest fans, but for the most part, they know who’s boss.” He winked. “And you don’t really turn down an invitation to the King’s nuptials.”
“Royal command?”
“Something like that. If there’s anyone you want to come, make up a give a list. Someone will make sure they’ll be here. And there’s already food and cake and an orchestra. And lots and lots of very beautiful flowers."
"So now the flowers are beautiful? This morning, sitting right at this table, you said you didn't like 'em." Rose raised an eyebrow.
“I never said I didn’t like them!” he protested. “I very rudely asked what kind of flowers took thirty-six hours to stick into vases, and Donna said there was much more to it than that, and then I said of course that woman would want something so complicated that it would take thirty-six hours, and then Donna told me about the gold, and then I said 'talk about gilding the lily' but I never said that I didn't like them."
"You do like them then?" she asked cheekily.
"Those arrangements were designed and crafted by the very brilliant Rose Tyler of The Wolf and Rose florist, therefore, they are magnificent. Works of art. Those flowers brought you here to the palace, and to me."
Rose kissed John sweetly, and placed a hand on his cheek.
"Although they are definitely pretentious enough to impress the most critical eye."
Rose slapped his arm jokingly. "I hope I never see another sheet of gold leaf again in my entire life. But yeah, I have to admit, they are fantastic. She may have pretty awful taste in wedding gowns, but she does have great taste in flowers."
"Do you think you could marry me surrounded by gold-edged flowers?"
“John, it could be a clown-themed wedding with everyone wearing red noses, and I'd still marry you."
"Well, if you can be patient for about four hours, I'll see if I can round up some red noses." He kissed Rose on the forehead and stood. “I’ll send a carriage around at five forty-five on the dot. Don't be late." He winked, and jogged away.
Rose sighed, rested her head in her hand, and smiled dreamily.
And in the distance, she heard the wolf howl.
oOo
Mrs. Donnelly escorted Rose back to the same suite of rooms where earlier, she'd been poked, primped, and pampered. Martha, Amy, and Lynda were there waiting for her, and they pulled her into a hug the moment they saw her.
“Show me that ring,” demanded Amy.
Rose’s hand shook as she displayed the oval-cut sapphire.
“How big is that thing?” breathed Lynda.
“It’s 13.34 carats,” interrupted Donna. “I don’t know the how big the diamonds are, and I know the four of you want a good gossip, but Rose, I need you to follow me. Amy, Martha, Lynda, I’m making you Ladies in Waiting. I’ll explain it later. But for now, you sit here and drink champagne. Believe me, we have plenty of it."
Rose followed Donna into the dressing room. "Rose, this is your Lady of the Bedchamber, Letisha Jones. She was the late Queen's Lady of the Bedchamber.”
Ms. Jones dipped. "It is an honour to serve you, Ma'am."
Rose leaned in close to Donna's ear. "You're telling me that there's a woman who stays in the bedroom with me and the King?"
"No, blondie, she helps you get in and out of complicated clothes, does your hair, and goes shopping with you. She has great fashion sense.”
"Oh! Like Anna Bates did for Mary Crawley!"
"Yes, Ma'am."
Rose leaned into Donna's ear again. "This curtsying thing, does she have to do it? And does she have to call me Ma'am?"
"In private, that's up to you. In the palace and in public, yes, it's expected," Donna replied quietly. "And you deserve it, Rose. You're going to be Queen." Donna smiled fondly.
"Now. How would you like to take a break from that dress for a while?" her dresser asked.
"Yes, please. And, um, may I call you Letitia?"
"No," she paused for a moment, but her eyes twinkled. "Because everyone calls me Tish."
Rose smiled, relieved. "Alright then, Tish, call me Rose."
"Well then, Rose. Let’s get you out of that dress so you can relax for a couple of hours.”
oOo
Rose returned to her friends wearing a flowing, white silk, floor-length dressing gown. She dropped onto the sofa and then laughed into her hands. "This is mental."
"And you are go to tell us everything. Don't you dare leave anything out," demanded Amy.
Lynda rolled her eyes. "But some of it might be private, Amy."
"Especially don't leave the private parts out." She perched herself on a chair, crossed her legs, and placed her hands on her knee.
"Rose," Martha grimaced, "before you start, I have a confession. I called Idris and told her about you and the King. I waited a week after you told me before I did, because I couldn’t stand to see you so sad anymore, and it wasn’t right that he didn’t know. I hope you're not too mad."
Rose smiled softly and then shook her head. "I'm not mad at all. Not one bit. And you know what's even more weird? Turns out, Idris is his soulmate counselor too."
"I asked her to get in touch with someone at the palace, and she said she wasn't allowed to. That it was forbidden or something. But," Martha dragged out the word, "she did say she would meddle."
“Meddle?” Rose asked quietly, brows furrowed.
Rose told the story from the very beginning. By the time she reached the part about the apple, they were dabbing their eyes.
"So romantic," Lynda gushed.
“You know I would have chained myself to the palace gates until someone came out and looked at my soulmark," Amy announced.
"I have no doubt about that," Martha smirked.
“You were fierce at the wedding, but I would have slugged her." Amy's eyes flashed.
"Me too," chirped Lynda.
"Amy, Lynda, Martha! Time for you to be Ladies in Waiting," ordered Donna. "Let's get the bride dressed."
The dozens of silk covered buttons were fastened up the back, Rose's hair was restyled into an elegant chignon, and her makeup was retouched.
"This is absolutely the most beautiful wedding gown I have ever seen," said Lynda.
"And the lace is amazing," Martha added.
“It was John’s Mum’s. I know it’s a bit old fashioned, but I love it.” Rose admired one of her lace-covered arms.
Astrid tapped Rose on the shoulder. She thrust a bridal bouquet into her hands.
"Astrid! It's beautiful!" Rose gave a side hug to the Floral Llaison. She inhaled the lovely scent of the pale pink and white nosegay. A modest sprinkling of silver dust sparkled under the bright lights of the dressing room, adding a barely-there shimmer. "How'd you know about pink roses? And the stephanotis is gorgeous." Rose turned the bouquet, studying the beautiful design.
"Thank your groom," she said. "He said he'd promised you pink, and you'd said he'd like star-shaped flowers."
"It's perfect, Astrid. But I don't know how you did this so quickly."
"I have my own stock of flowers. I could open a florist shop out in the greenhouse."
"And I really love the crystals," Rose said, wondering if they were another allusion to the stars.
"Oh, those aren't crystals. They're diamonds. Actually hairpins. You can wear them in your hair at the ball tonight if you'd like."
“Diamonds," her jaw draped. "All of that talk about her flowers dripping with gold, and you've put diamonds in my flowers," she deadpanned.
“The King is the one who sent them over, Rose,” Astrid laughed. “They're part of the White Point Star parure.”
"What's a parure?" asked Rose.
"A lot of money in a big box, that's what a parure is,” Amy interjected.
“It's a fancy name for a collection of matching jewellery. Just wait until you see the actual White Point Star diamond," said Donna. "Start doing some exercises now, ’cos you’re definitely gonna need a strong neck to balance that crown that you’ll wear at your coronation.”
Rose swallowed hard. “Coronation. Completely mental. How many times have I said that today?”
“Not enough,” Donna laughed.
Astrid handed floral boxes to the three bridesmaids. Each coordinating bouquet was slightly different and complimented their different gowns.
“And these are for you, too.” Donna handed velvet boxes to each woman.
“Diamond earrings?”
“They’re from Rose. Bridesmaids gifts of course. But I had to pick ‘em as she was a bit busy. Hope you like them.”
“Like them? They’re gorgeous,” said Martha as she looked at the teardrop chandelier earrings.
Amy and Lynda gushed as well.
"Astrid, you're not planning on quitting still, are you? I don't want you to leave,” said Rose.
"You kidding? Best job in the world, working for you and the King. Of course I'm staying now that she stomped out.”
Donna produced two wooden boxes. The first was the box that was for the sapphire and pearl necklace."
"Time for a change of jewellery. Put the necklace back in the box, and put on the earrings. That choker is wrong with the neckline of your dress. I think John wanted you to wear it to ruffle some feathers. Everyone knows that was his mother's favourite piece. He was making a statement that the two of you belonged together."
Donna picked up the cube-shaped wooden box, and then flipped back the lid to reverently display the treasure that it held.
Rose was speechless.
"This belonged to John's grandmother. She wore it on her wedding day."
Rose stared, and pointed. "That's a tiara." She paused. "That's a tiara with diamonds and sapphires. That's a proper princess's tiara."
Donna rolled her eyes. "Well it ain't from Burger King. Go on. Pull it out. I promise it won't break. It's platinum. And I know all of these sapphires don’t really go with the pink flowers, but--"
"John likes blue, so that's what matters,” Rose said, tears threatening.
Rose took out it gingerly and turned it around in her hands, swallowing hard. "It's real isn't it? Not the tiara, but all this. Tell me this is real? And not the best dream of my life?"
As she pinned the tiara in Rose's hair, Donna gently poked her with one of the hairpins. "Feel real enough?"
Rose laughed. "Yeah, I guess it is." She waved her hands in front of her face. "Please no, I don't wanna cry."
"You go on and cry if you need to. We've got a bit of time and we can touch up your makeup. You only get one wedding. And it's been an overwhelming day. I'm surprised you are even upright."
"I can't believe arranged everything this afternoon,” Rose stated, shaking her head.
"What good is a royal staff if we can't pull off something like this? Especially when we are highly motivated." Donna patted her on the shoulder. "And the very last thing."
A long piece of lace was draped over Martha's arms.
"Your veil. Of course it isn't made out of straw spun into gold like that woman’s,” Donna said, rolling her eyes. "Then again, you didn't have to trade your firstborn in exchange."
Rose laughed. Her tears had stopped. Martha, Lynda, Amy, and Tish each took a corner, and draped the voluminous fabric over Rose. They flipped it back to reveal her face, and then secured it into the knot on the back of her head.
"Let's make sure we have everything. The tiara is old, shoes are new. The wedding dress is borrowed, and the sapphires are blue."
"OH! Let's take some pictures," Lynda suggested.
Everyone in the room pulled out their mobiles and snapped photos of the bride.
She clucked her tongue. "Just look at you. A real princess."
Astrid gasped. "Oh! It's time! Just got a text and the carriage is out front."
"Ready?" Donna asked.
"Couldn't be more ready."
"Don't forget your bouquet,” Donna said, her voice cracking.
oOo
The doors swung open.
A string quartet played.
Candlelight was the only light illuminating the Abbey. The flowers that Rose had poured all of her pain into still lined the aisle, and were truly beautiful. They didn't match her perfect bouquet, and the blue sapphires didn't match either, but she didn't care. Like John had said, these flowers led them to each other.
The doors opened to the grand strains of the pipe organ. Her three dear friends led the procession followed by a young flower girl wearing the pouffy pink dress of five year old Rose’s dreams. She jubilantly tossed white stephanotis and pink rose petals onto the traditional midnight blue runner.
And then Rose moved to the doorway.
Slowly, with purpose, Rose walked towards her soulmate, eyes never leaving him.
John’s breath was taken away as he watched his soulmate draw ever nearer.
It felt like an eternity before she had made it down the aisle, but finally, they were together, standing shoulder to shoulder.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate instituted..."
Rose found her mind wandering again. But this time, she wasn’t imagining herself next to her soulmate, she was experiencing it.
“Is this really happening?” she said to John as quietly as she could.
“Yes. It is. Absolutely one hundred percent real.” But his lips weren’t moving.
Both of their eyes went wide.
“Am I imagining that you’re in my head? Are we talking to each other right now without our voices? Just using our minds?” she asked him.
“Not your imagination. Telepathy! Brilliant!” John enthused, and Rose could feel that enthusiasm.
“I suppose that Soulmates for Dummies book will explain it.”
“I can think of a few ways that biology could explain given the current theories about the relationship between the structurally unique brain pathways of those who have successfully soulmated.”
“Maybe we should be paying attention to the minister. This is our wedding after all,” Rose said, silently nudging his side.
They stopped their secret, silent conversation and refocused their attentions.
“Many of us long to find our soulmate. Some have even given up,” said the Archbishop. “Only one in about a thousand are blessed, or lucky enough that one of their five senses recognises that singular person — that one special person — for them. Let me pose a question. Is there only one person that is right for you? Maybe. Maybe Not. Pick the idea you like best and go with it. And to those of you who are looking, I do believe in my heart that he or she is out there. Just keep your senses sharp.”
He turned his attention to the bride and groom. “Rose and John, I think you would have to agree that given your individual circumstances, the odds of the two of you finding each other were slim to none. But due to some amazing coincidences, you did find each other.”
“And not a moment too soon,” Jack said loudly, garnering laughter from the congregation, and side-eyed chastisement from the King.
"John, this morning, you went for a run. You took a longer route because you had to avoid that wolf that's been roaming the palace grounds. You ended up in the palace kitchen, hungry, tired and cold.
“Rose, you found yourself in that same palace kitchen in need of breakfast because," he cleared his throat, "that woman had ordered such complicated flowers for her wedding that you had been up thirty-six hours straight, without a proper meal or sleep."
There was plenty of tongue clucking in the congregation and under-their-breath comments about ridiculous demands and selfishness and gold.
“Now there was more to it than the circumstances of this morning, but those are your memories to cherish. But what matters is that the two of you found each other, and the rest is history. Coincidences? Manipulated circumstances? Miracles? I like to think it’s the last one, of course, considering my line of work. But perhaps it is a little bit of each.
“To those of you who have experienced the joy and bliss of having a soulmate, you know how unreal it feels! You believe that you are living a dream! Living a miracle! Now science can’t explain miracles, because miracles aren’t rooted in the laws of the physical world. But science has now begun to reveal how chemistry and physics and physiology and psychological traits all work to draw two like-minded people into this union called love, and for those lucky few, a sealing of souls.
“But may I challenge you, John and Rose? Don’t think too much about the science. No offense, King John, PhD.” He winked at the King. “Don’t try to explain it. Instead, be thankful for this miracle. Take joy in it. Never forget that it worked out in the end. Against all odds. It worked out. And that is what matters.”
The Archbishop ended the homily, and returned to the traditional order of service. Soon, that part of the ceremony that had everyone’s nerves frazzled arrived.
“Therefore, if anyone can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let them now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace."
It seemed as if the entire congregation held its breath. But there was only blessed silence.
“Thank the Almighty God. I never want to go through that again,” the Archbishop said under his breath to the bride and groom, who both laughed.
John David Donald and Rose Marion exchanged vows prescribed by the Church, but also spoke their own private vows to each other, silently.
When the time to exchange rings arrived, Rose panicked.
“Ianto found a wedding band in the royal treasury. You can pay him back. Of course, you're filthy rich now. Oh, that was rude in church, wasn’t it?” John told silently.
The Archbishop blessed the rings, and the bride and groom slid them on each others fingers, exchanging promises of love and fidelity.
The Archbishop prayed, the children’s choir sang to the accompaniment of the string quartet, and then the ceremony was over more quickly than any other royal wedding in the history of Gallifrey.
From the back of the chapel, a somewhat mad woman in an old-fashioned dress waved ecstatically at the Archbishop. He winked and gave her a thumbs up before she slipped back out of the old stone church. There was a wolf by her side.
oOo
The banquet hall was awash in the glow of gold and sparkled with the reflection of thousands of tiny mirrors. The scent of gardenias perfumed the air. A ensemble comprised of a few members of the orchestra was playing quietly as the guests made their way in.
The King didn't want to waste the food that had been skillfully prepared by the caterer from that little village, even if it was far too complicated for his tastes. But there was far too much food — much would be wasted — so he had more than half of it sent to homeless shelters in the city.
The banquet was to have been a traditional Versaillian banquet -- seventeen courses. “No one should have to sit through seventeen courses," Donna had said to Ianto, who'd argued against the plan. "Ms. Noble. The wedding banquet of a monarch is a traditionally elaborate occasion, a celebration of highest order."
"It's not like I'm asking them to change the menu to bangers and mash, Ianto. But that woman's plan was absolutely... ridiculous! Have the kitchen figure out how to condense it somehow. Everyone is here for the cake and dancing anyway, right?” So the elaborate meal was pared down by half (still too many courses Donna had groused, and not grand enough Ianto had complained).
The hors d’oeuvres and cocktails were served in the long gallery as the guests waited to be escorted to their seats.
The soup course, consommé julienne, was thankfully light and fresh-tasting, not heavy, but it was the last light bit of food that would cross their lips for the rest of the meal.
Lobster in a heavy cream sauce was followed by roast chicken. “Little crowns! I love the crowns! Oh,” John said, crestfallen. “They’re made of mushrooms. Do I have to eat the mushrooms?” the King whinged. “Mushrooms are fungus.”
“Hide ‘em under that fluffy garnish thing,” Jack suggested.
“Oh, this is nice,” Rose said, taking a palate-cleansing spoonful of raspberry sorbet.
Roast leg of lamb and vegetable were next.
“There are pears in this salad," John said, jaw set. “Marriage contract. Subsection IV. Wedding Banquet. Item 1. And I quote, There shall be no pears."
Donna rolled her eyes and Rose snickered.
And then came the dessert. “Bananas Foster! That was item Subsection IV, Item 9!” Petite portions of flaming bananas appeared at every table.
“Hey Yan, where ya been?” asked Jack as Ianto sat on the other side of Donna.
“Managing the banquet. Quite the task. I am disappointed with the changes. Such a feast is a once in a lifetime occasion. The second, fourth, and thirteenth courses were eliminated, and others were combined. And I’m so disappointed there is no Savoureux,” said Ianto. “I was looking forward to the anchovies on pickled fruit. The jellied ham was missing as well. Pity.”
Rose tried to hide a shudder.
He leaned close to Donna. “I don’t want the Kind to know this. I’ve been correcting an error pertaining to the wedding cake.”
“Do I want to know?” asked Donna.
“No, most definitely not.”
“And did you fix it?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because I really want cake,” said Donna.
Ianto straightened up. “I’m not disappointed that the cheese course was combined with the fruit and nuts course, fourteen and fifteen respectively. The courses are a natural pairing, and shaved fifteen minutes from the timeline,” enthused Ianto.
“You really get into this stuff, don’t you?” Jack asked.
“Of course. It’s fascinating. There is meaning and tradition behind the purpose of each course. Shall I explain?”
“No!” said several of the guests around him.
“And last but not least, tea and coffeeeeeeeeyuh!” King John almost whooped.
John felt a soft thud on his shoulder. Rose was asleep. He put his arm around her and pulled her into his side, and she sighed. He could feel her contentment warming both his body and soul.
He let her rest until there was a fanfare. “Rose, love. It’s time for the ball,” he whispered.
“Mmmm. Comfy here.”
“There’ll be cake and champagne,” he tempted. “And of course, dancing. And I am a fantastic dancer.”
She smiled, and her eyes opened fully. “I think I can manage a few more hours."
oOo
Ianto had, indeed, averted a disaster. That woman had ordered a pear cake, but John would never know that she’d violated Subsection IV, Line Item 10: banana cake with white cream cheese frosting under vanilla fondant. And the last minute cake had been perfect. The palace pastry chef, of course, was well-practiced with the particular recipe, having made this cake hundreds of times over the years for John’s birthday, family parties and celebrations, and also, just because.
With the help of the baker who had been chosen to create the original wedding cake (which was sent to a retirement home), they managed to assemble and decorate the necessarily-enormous dessert. The design was simple, but elegant, and grand enough for a royal wedding. It was decorated with sparkling, fresh flowers, and another of the King’s favourite: tiny edible ball bearings.
Jack picked up the microphone near the orchestra. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Oh behalf of King John and his bride, the soon-to-be Queen Rose, I thank you for coming. Now I know there are differences between Gallifreyan traditions and American traditions. And as I am the Best Man, and not Gallifreyan, I’ll do what I want. Back in the good old Colonies,” there was polite laughter, “we have a few traditions. The bouquet toss, the garter toss—“
“No garter toss, Jack,” the King said, pointing his finger.
“Alright, alright, buddy. I’ll leave that to you,” he winked.
Rose covered her face as her face burned.
“Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was telling you about American traditions. Lots of us sort of dread the open-mike toasts and speeches as tipsy Uncle Bob usually comes up and embarrasses himself, or Great Aunt Hazel cries her way through stories about when the groom was a four year old and got into the cocoa powder. I’m not going to make you suffer through that, and I’ll keep it short.
“John. You’ve been my best friend since your family essentially adopted me when I was just a kid. We’ve been through a lot together. Much of which I can’t bring up in polite company. Of course, you were always a perfect gentleman. Me, not so much. But you always had this lonely side to you. You had an amazing enthusiasm for life — always learning, exploring, taking risks, having a lot of fun. But I could tell. You weren’t quite complete. Now a few months ago, I suggested something that I need to apologize for. This is probably completely inappropriate, and I might get fired from my job as Parliamentary Llaison. But John, I’m sorry that I convinced you to give up looking for your soulmate.
John closed his eyes and looked down. He squeezed Rose’s hand.
“But the Universe or God or fate or whatever had it all figured out. And like the preacher said, he likes to believe it was a miracle. And so do I.
“And Rose, I know you had your doubts this morning, but only because you were being completely unselfish. You were thinking only of the King and this wonderful country of yours. But then you came to your senses thanks to a gorgeous pushy redhead,” he coughed Donna’s name. “I have never ever ever seen John so happy as he is now. You’ve filled that empty spot in his soul. Thank you, Rosie.
“So raise your glasses.” He lifted his champagne flute high, and the guests followed suit. “To my best friend John, and my new best friend, Rose. Live life to the fullest, cherish every single minute, and have lots of gorgeous babies for Uncle Jack to spoil. To the King and and his Queen!”
“To the King and Queen!”
The cake was perfect, there was no smashing into faces, but the King did kiss a bit off frosting that he playfully put onto her lips with his finger.
The bouquet was tossed, and Rose didn’t cheat or aim at her friends. She had a niggling feeling that there might be a soulmate looking for their match. That little five year old flower girl caught the bouquet, and Idris, who was peeking through a door, took note in case there would be need for meddling twenty or so years in the future.
The time for the bride and groom’s first dance arrived. As he had boasted, John was a wonderful dancer, and Rose was a rather talented partner as well. Her veil had long before been shed, and the diamond hairpins adorning her hair twinkled like little stars. Everyone could see her soulmark shimmering like a pearl.
“I feel like Cinderella, and you’re my very own, real life Prince Charming. When I was just a kid, I'd dance around my room with my teddy bear, pretending he was you.”
“No more teddy bears,” said John, grinning.
“No more hiding.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder when a slower song began. "I found out this afternoon that Martha called Idris and told her about us.”
"And...?"
"Idris told Martha that she was forbidden from arranging a meeting for us, but she could meddle, and I think she may have done some meddling, like--"
He captured her lips to silence her, and then he pulled away slowly. "I don't want to know. Do you?"
"I'm impressed! The scientist doesn’t want proof!"
“Not this time.” He kissed her again.
The music stopped, and so did they. John rested his hands on Rose’s shoulders, and then slid his right hand up to her neck. Rose closed her eyes, sinking into the warmth of his palm over her soulmark. She copied his motion — her hand covering his soulmark. Their lips connected. Their minds spoke.
"I love you."
And they now understood that they had been blessed with a sixth sense: Knowing.