The Royal Wedding

In grateful acknowledgement of president obama's support of marriage equality, we present a historical wedding.

"How did you talk that priest into doing this, Nedikins?"

King Edward, the second of that name, grinned impishly. "He's not a real priest, my Pierrot."

Piers Gaveston sighed. "And they call _me_ the Lord of Misrule."

He let Edward take his elbow and guide him down the chapel's central aisle to the altar. There the two of them knelt before the ersatz priest.

"But your Majesty, I don't know the marriage ritual..." the confused looking impost er whined.

Edward frowned. "Never mind. Just say , 'I now pronounce you man and wife.   You may kiss the bride.'"

"Nedikins!" Piers protested. "Which of us are you calling the bride?"

Edward frowned again. "Oh don't be tiresome. What difference does it make?"

"I suppose since we are a cou0ple of queens, we can both be the bride." Piers smirked. "I shouldn't think Isabella will be too pleased."

Sulking, Edward pleaded, "I asked you not to mention her. Why can't you do as I ask?"

The "priest" cut in, "You may kiss the bride."

Piers Gaveston reached out and touch Edward's cheek with his fingers. "I do love you, Nedikins." He leaned in and put his lips on Edward's.

The king melted. He kissed back, sweetly and romantically.

"My Pierrot," he sighed.

Piers smiled. "Now what was that about my doing something you ask?" He glanced down at the king's codpiece suggestively.

"Oh, my Parrot..."

"My Nedikins. I couldn't help but lose my head over you."

They let the next kiss linger as the fake priest took the coins Edward held out to him and left the chapel.

Vive l'amour!

[Originally published in gay flash fiction, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/gayflashfic/]