Arthur stares at the crinkled paper he has clutched in his shaking hands. His eyes scan over the plethora of words printed on the sheet.

Flight: LHR-->FLR,

Departs: 16:40 on 12/08/2020

Arrives: 19:50 on 12/08/2020

Lead Passenger: Miss Grace Roberts

It still doesn't feel real.

Arthur is currently perched on the edge of a dressing room chaise, careful not to crease the ridiculously expensive tuxedo his mother had made especially for him.

He wears a white shirt, covered by a plain grey waistcoat with a cream satin back. On his legs are matching grey trousers, in which his thighs are hugged comfortably, and attractively, if he can say so himself. His tie is also cream-coloured, and is tucked into his waistcoat.

His suit jacket, black, with two long tails at the back and a small white rose in its pocket, is hung up on the frame of the bathroom door in front of him.

He runs his hands over the paper again, then reaches into his trouser pocket and retrieves the card upon which he found Grace's note. Despite having only found the note to begin with, Arthur had noticed that the paper was tucked neatly in the back of the painting, hidden well, but obvious enough to be found upon further inspection.

Arthur huffs, frustratedly. In this particular situation, he hates Grace. He loves her, of course, but he hates her right now. Because... how dare she? It was the day before his wedding when the package arrived, and she decided to wait until then to change her mind?

If he weren't so ridiculously in love with her, he would've let her rot in Florence alone, just for making him so conflicted.

But of course, the irony isn't lost on him; he's the one playing mind games, inviting her to his wedding, knowing full well that it'd upset her. It's just karma that she's dealt him this blow. This ultimatum.

Sending her an invite was a mistake. A mistake that he tried to dress up as a harmless request for support. Deep down, in a place he isn't ready to explore, Arthur knows he doesn't need Grace there to watch him getting married. He needs her there so that she can stop him.

"Arthur? Are you in there?" A deep voice rumbles from outside the door.

Arthur stands, walking over to the door and unlocking it, pulling it open slightly and backing away.

A hand appears around the edge of the door, then it opens completely, revealing Arthur's father, James.

The man is tall, taller than his son by a couple of inches, with light brown hair, which is peppered with grey strands. Arthur looks like his mother, but he shares his father's features. The deep brown eyes, floppy brown hair, and plump pink lips. They make a handsome pair of men.

"Hey, Dad." Arthur says softly, returning to his seat on the chaise.

"Son," James nods, settling down on a stool near a large window, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm... okay." Arthur tells his father, taking a noticeably long time to find an answer, "Why'd you ask?"

"Because it's a big day." James points out, then he raises an eyebrow, "And I'm sure this isn't how you expected it to happen?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Arthur splutters with a frown, looking away from his dad.

"Come on, Arthur. I may be quiet, but I'm not blind. I know that Rebecca isn't the one you'd rather be marrying today."

"I-I..." Arthur tries to find the words, but he comes up short. He settles for just staying silent, staring at his father hopelessly.

"Her name is Grace, right?" James asks, continuing at the slight nod of his son's head, "She seems nice. From what I've heard. Intelligent, a good head on her shoulders."

"She's stupid is what she is." Arthur grumbles petulantly.

"Why's that? Because she let you go to do your duty? Because she put the needs of her country above her own?"

Arthur doesn't respond.

"Well I would call that noble, self-sacrificial, not stupid. She gave up her happiness so that you wouldn't have to choose between her and your county. The stupid thing to do would be to let that sacrifice be in vain."

"She changed her mind." Arthur blurts out.

"What?"

With a pained look, Arthur holds up the sheet with Grace's flight information. At his father's confused expression, he reaches out and places it into his hand.

"She sent this to me yesterday. Along with a painting and a note."

"What did the note say?" James asks, not displaying any emotion.

"That the Sunshine longs for me in Florence." Arthur tells him with a sigh, "It's what I used to call her... Sunshine."

"She wants you to go with her?"

"I guess so..." Arthur groans and drops his head, staring down at the shiny black shoes on his feet, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Are you asking me as your father, or as the king?" James questions with a half-smile.

"Um... both?"

Arthur's father scoffs, amused, and shifts on his seat.

"Well... as the king, I should tell you to get your arse up to that altar and do your duty."

Arthur says nothing. He just sighs and looks out the window at the beautiful gardens at the back of the building.

"But as your dad-"

Arthur's head snaps back at the sound of his father's continuation.

"As your dad... I say that you do what feels right, what makes you happy. I love you, son, I want your happiness to come before anything else... And though it may not seem like it, your mother does too."

"I find that hard to believe." Arthur scoffs, letting his head droop.

"I get you. But remember, I married your mother. Not 'the duchess of Gloucester', and certainly not 'the queen of England'." James smiles sadly, "And if you look closely, underneath all those titles, she's still the kind, understanding woman I met all those years ago."

"But I can't let her down like that. She'll be heartbroken."

"No, the Duchess will be." James stands, and goes to walk past his son toward the door. He pauses halfway to stand next to Arthur and place a tender hand on his shoulder, "Your mother, however, would be proud that you inherited her spirit. You have a tendency to get caught between doing what's expected of you, and what's right, and you end up doing the worst of both."

Arthur scoffs internally, thinking about the wedding invitation he's sent. "I hope to see you there," he'd written, like she was his emotional support person. If he were honest his words would be, "I hope you come and free me from this hellscape I'm trapped in."

His father continues, gracing his son with a rueful smile, "You've got a good heart, son, and even if it leads you to places that your brain doesn't want to go, it's the best compass you've got, if you want to be happy."

Arthur stares at him, letting the words sink in, until he truly grasps their meaning.

"Thanks, Dad." He says, covering James' hand with his own and squeezing it gratefully.

"No problem," James says, continuing his walk to the door, "Now hurry up and make a decision, your dithering is literally wasting taxpayer money."

Arthur lets out a loud sharp laugh as he watches his dad close the door. He stands up, moving from the chaise to the windowsill so that he can watch the garden some more.

His father is right. A decision has to be made.

~~~

"You know we don't have to do this right?" Elina says, opening the door of the taxi for Grace, who is hobbling down the path of her driveway. Hobbling, because she hasn't worn heels this high since her sixth form prom.

"Yes, I do." Grace says, chucking her bag and fascinator onto the seat and looking at her friend, "If he goes through with it. I want to be there. Just so that he knows I won't hate him."

"I will." Elina mutters, curling her tall form to fit inside the back seat of the cab, "If I were you, I'd have booked a flight a week ago and be sipping cocktails from the top of the Duomo by now. Arthur be damned."

"First of all, I don't think that's something you can do." Grace responds with a frown, "Secondly, I'm not heartless like you. I need him to be at peace with his decision."

"I'm just trying to be supportive here. But I'm struggling to do that when you make such piss-poor choices."

"Yeah, well, no offense, El, but I think I'm allowed to force you to support a couple of my bad decisions. Lord knows I've had to support plenty of yours."

Elina's eyebrows shoot up, and she slowly turns her head away from Grace, angling her body completely away from her friend and staring out the window.

"Elina... I'm sorry. That was mean."

"I'm not mad because it was mean." Elina grumbles, "We've said much harsher things to each other."

"Then why are you mad?"

"Because you're completely right." She huffs, "Which means I have to have your back in this stupid crusade."

Grace grins and grabs Elina's hand, letting her head drop onto the tall girl's shoulder and sighing slightly.

"What if he's there?" She says softly, worried.

"At the church?" Elina's face scrunches up in confusion, "I mean... it's his wedding day. Where else would he be?"

"At the airport? Waiting for me?"

"You sweet delusional fool." Elina rolls her eyes, "You know Arthur better than me. So, you know as well as I do that that boy will wait until the very last minute until he makes his decision."

Grace frowns and whines, "I hate it when you're right."

"It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's devastating. Like an eclipse."

"Or a shart."

~~~

By the time the taxi pulls up to the entrance of the cathedral, there's only 10 minutes until the ceremony is due to begin. Knowing how weddings go, however, both Grace and Elina know they've got plenty of time.

The guards at the door look them up and down but say nothing, taking the invitations out of their hands to inspect them thoroughly.

One of them, probably the chief, or whatever, nods, and the two guards separate, giving the women the directions to their seats.

The room is decorated beautifully, with white flowers hanging from the ceilings, and from every pew. There is a long, white carpet going up the aisle ending at the altar, which is home to a beautiful golden arch where the priest is stood alone, waiting. Arthur isn't there yet.

Maybe he won't get there at all? Maybe he's already halfway to the airport.

"He's not on his way to the airport." Elina says plainly, dragging Grace to their seats, about 10 rows away from the altar.

"How did you-?"

"I know how you think, dummy." Elina rolls her eyes, "I bet you anything that he's sat in some room somewhere, freaking out."

"But if he gets onto that altar? Then the decision is already made." Grace says with furrowed brows.

Elina frowns, "Not necessarily. Arthur does have a flair for the dramatics." She says with a shrug of her shoulders, and looks at her friend, "It's not over until he says 'I do'."

"D-Do you promise?" Grace asks, looking straight ahead, slightly spaced out.

"W-what? Yes. Why?"

"Because he's right there." Grace takes a deep, shaky breath, "He's at the altar."