She was beautiful. Her blue eyes clear and bright and focused on him. The wind had dishevelled her black curls and dislodged a few bobby pins, but she was still his radiant girl.

He could feel the nervous energy rolling off of her. The anticipation for the ceremony to be over. He glanced down again at her dress. White organza and lace, a bit old fashioned, but it suited her, the thin fabric tantalisingly outlined her form. He wished the priest would finish his homily. No one was here to listen to him drone on. They were here for them, for his beautiful queen.

The candles in the cathedral flickered and the faces of all who gathered were facing them in rapt attention. Finally. After what seemed an age, the priest had finished. He made his pronouncements. She was his.

He smiled at all who had gathered before them as he stepped from the circle of protection hastily sketched on the floor. Their excitement turned to panic, as they realised their efforts to contain him had failed. He would feast heartily tonight, starting with his beautiful queen.