“There needs to be three times this many chairs!” Peach begged, high heels click-clacking as she scurried around the giant hall. “And while you’re ordering more chairs, they need to be much softer, too. Our guests are royal delegates, important people, friends and family…we can’t have them sitting on lawn furniture!”
The shy guys followed her around, silently nodding and furiously scribbling on clipboards as her voice grew more and more frantic. “The curtains aren’t right, either. There’s too much red and black. This is a union of two entire civilizations; not just one of Bowser’s birthday parties. I need pinks! Yellows! Happy colors!”
"Sire,” one of the shy guys squeaked, turning from Peach to Bowser, who was slowly trailing behind the group. “Sire, didn’t you pick out these curtains?”
Bowser rolled his eyes. “I told you, Peach’s choices go. She said ‘yes’ to my marriage, I’m saying ‘yes’ to her wedding. No matter how pastel and cushiony she wants it.”
"Bowser,” Peach sighed, spinning around and looking absolutely horrified, “Bowser, we’re supposed to be agreeing! Not just…surrendering! Marriage is about compromise, not power.”
Looking over his fiancée, Bowser could see she was stressed. Her hair wasn’t in perfect shape, she was wringing her hands and playing with the engagement ring, shoulders hunched forward instead of held back and regal. He sighed and waved off the hoard of Shy Guys. “Shoo. Get out of here, I need to talk with my future queen.”
“Bowser, the wedding plans-”
“Can wait until after we talk,” he promised. The shy guys were already scampering away, leaving Bowser and Peach alone in the giant room. He stepped forward, taking Peach’s tiny hands and engulfing them in his. “Peach, our wedding is going to be perfect. Do you know why?”
She was quiet for a moment, looking away from Bowser. When she met his dark eyes, she smiled, knowing what he was going to say. “Because it’s us?”
“Dang right because it’s us. In my wildest dreams, all I ever saw for my wedding was you standing there, saying ‘I do’. I never saw the chairs, or the cake, or the tux, or the stupid ice sculpture. I just saw your face with your perfect blue eyes and perfect pink lips. So this place could be draped in pink fur for all I care…as long as you’re the bride, it’s perfect. I love you.” He bent down, pressing his warm lips against her forehead.
Peach looked up at Bowser and smiled, pulling herself against his body for a hug. “I know, I love you, too. I just want this wedding to be about the both of us, you know?”
"Well…then…we can put some killer black spikes in with the pink fur or something,” Bowser offered. Peach laughed, her body shaking against Bowser’s. “Just don’t worry about it, Princess. My future Queen.”
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