"It's the wedding day!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with a mix of excitement and disbelief.  The day had finally arrived, the culmination of weeks of planning, the moment I had dreamed of for so long.
"Your Majesty, your dress has arrived," Connor announced, his voice echoing through the chamber.  "Here are the servants who will help you."
The servants from yesterday, the ones I had healed, stood before me, their faces beaming with smiles.  "Greetings, Your Majesty," one of them said, her voice a gentle murmur.  "It's time to take a bath."
"Wait, I'll take a bath with you?" I asked, my voice a mere whisper.  No one had ever seen me naked before.  It felt so uncomfortable, so intimate.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the servant replied, her voice filled with a mixture of respect and eagerness.  "We will help you take a bath and everything else."
"Everything?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.  "But only today, right?"
The two servants, their movements gentle and reassuring, helped me into the bath.  The water, infused with fragrant herbs, enveloped me, washing away the tension and anxiety I had been carrying.  It was an awkward experience, a moment of vulnerability that I had never before shared with anyone.
"Your Majesty, your skin is so white and smooth, like milk," one of the servants said, her voice filled with admiration.  "You are truly a goddess."
"That's right," the other servant chimed in.  "I've never seen skin like this before, Your Majesty.  Your skin is so unique."
I couldn't even speak, my face flushed with embarrassment.  I was so used to being a guardian, to being a figure of authority, that this moment of vulnerability felt strange, almost alien.
"Your Majesty, I think this hairstyle doesn't suit you," one of the servants said, her voice filled with concern.  "Let's try another style."
"Sure, why not," I replied, feeling a wave of relief as they began to work on my hair.  "You look even more beautiful with that hairstyle, Your Majesty," one of them said, her voice filled with delight.  "The King is going to love you even more."  She giggled, her laughter a sweet melody that filled the chamber.
"And for the last thing, let's put on your gorgeous dress, Your Majesty," the servants said, their voices filled with anticipation. 
The dress, a masterpiece created by Mrs. Elodie, was a stunning spectacle.  It was a gown of ivory silk, embroidered with intricate patterns of silver thread, sparkling with a thousand tiny jewels.  The skirt flowed around me like a cloud, the bodice was fitted to my form, and the train trailed behind me, a shimmering testament to my newfound status as a queen.
I looked at myself in the mirror, my breath catching in my throat.  I was a queen, a bride, a guardian, a woman who had come so far, who had overcome so much, who was about to embark on a new chapter in her life.  And as I looked into my own eyes, I saw a reflection of strength, of resilience, of love, and of a deep, abiding sense of purpose. 
The music swelled, a triumphant fanfare that echoed through the grand hall.  It was time.  My heart pounded against my ribs, a rhythm that mirrored the beat of the drums, as I took my first step towards the altar. 
Every eye in the room was upon me, their gazes filled with a mixture of awe and anticipation.  I felt a surge of excitement, a thrill that coursed through my veins.  This was it, the moment I had been waiting for, the culmination of a journey that had taken me from a humble guardian to a queen.
But as I walked, my gaze searching the crowd, a pang of longing pierced my heart.  I looked for Kaufman, his familiar presence a source of comfort and strength.  But he wasn't there.  He wasn't in the crowd, his face not among the sea of hopeful faces.
A wave of worry washed over me, the excitement of the moment momentarily overshadowed by a deep, unsettling concern.  I wished he could be here, to share this moment with me, to witness the culmination of our shared journey.  But as I reached the altar, I knew that I couldn't let my anxieties consume me.  This was my wedding, a celebration of love, of purpose, of a new beginning. 
I took a deep breath, pushing aside my worries.  I needed to focus on the present, on the promise of a future filled with hope and possibility.  I needed to embrace the joy of this moment, to allow myself to be swept away by the magic of the occasion. 
Harton stood at the altar, his face radiant with love and anticipation.  His eyes met mine, and in that moment, I felt a wave of peace wash over me.  He was here, he was waiting for me, and that was all that mattered.
I took his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch, the strength of his presence.  And as I stood before him, ready to embark on this new chapter in our lives, I knew that no matter what challenges we faced, no matter what obstacles lay ahead, we would face them together, our hearts bound by a love that transcended words, a love that promised a future filled with purpose, with joy, and with the unwavering support of those who loved us.
The priest's voice, a deep, resonant tone, filled the grand hall.  "Does anyone wish to oppose this marriage?  If none, then I shall begin."
A hush fell over the crowd.  No one spoke, no one moved.  It was as if the very air had been stilled, holding its breath in anticipation.
The priest turned to Harton.  "Harton Barclay, do you take Zerah Coburg as your wife and future queen of this kingdom?"
Harton's gaze met mine, his eyes filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.  "I do, Father," he replied, his voice firm and unwavering.
He turned to me, his smile radiating warmth and love.  "Zerah Coburg, do you take Harton Barclay as your husband, the King of this kingdom?"
I met his gaze, my heart pounding in my chest.  This was it, the moment I had been waiting for, the moment I had dreamed of.  I looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of my own love, my own commitment. 
"Yes, Father," I replied, my voice clear and strong.  "I do."
The words hung in the air, a promise, a commitment, a bond that would forever unite us.  The priest smiled, his eyes twinkling with joy.  "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices a symphony of joy and celebration.  Confetti rained down, a cascade of color that filled the hall with a sense of magic and wonder.  I felt Harton's hand take mine, his touch a source of comfort and strength. 
We turned to face the crowd, our faces beaming with happiness, our hearts overflowing with love.  The weight of the ceremony, the significance of the moment, settled upon us, a sense of purpose and responsibility that would guide us through the years to come.
This was not just a wedding, it was a promise, a commitment to serve, to love, to build a future together, a future where our hearts would be intertwined, our destinies intertwined, our lives forever intertwined. 
And as we stood there, hand in hand, our eyes meeting across the crowded hall, I knew that this was just the beginning of a journey that would take us to unimaginable heights, a journey fueled by love, by purpose, by a shared commitment to make a difference in the world.
Meanwhile, Kaufman was locked in a desperate struggle, a battle far removed from the idyllic world of the palace. He stood amidst a swirling vortex of shadows, their tendrils reaching out like grasping claws, their whispers a chorus of despair. He fought with a ferocity born of desperation, his magic a flickering flame against the encroaching darkness. But the shadows were inexhaustible, their numbers seemingly endless, and Kaufman's strength was waning. He was weary, his body aching, his spirit drained. He had been given a task, a mission of vital importance by a powerful god, a task he had to complete alone, a secret he kept from Zerah, a burden he carried silently.
He fought on, fueled by a desperate hope, a hope that he could fulfill his duty and return to Zerah, to the life they had dreamed of together. But the shadows were relentless, their assault relentless, and Kaufman's strength finally gave way. He stumbled, his knees buckling beneath him, his body collapsing onto the cold, unforgiving ground.
"I'm sorry, Zerah," he whispered, his voice a mere rasp, his heart heavy with a sorrow that mirrored the darkness around him. "I can't make it to your wedding. I don't want to cause you any more trouble. Please, be happy. Don't think about me anymore, Zerah." His voice faded, swallowed by the whispering shadows, his form lost in the swirling darkness, his final words a silent plea for her happiness, a testament to the depth of his love, a love that transcended even the boundaries of life and death.