Ivan and Lydia stood at the altar.
Lydia's thoughts were spinning. Her body stood still, but her mind was far from the cathedral. She couldn't believe this was really happening.
The priest began the proceedings.
"We are gathered here today to witness the union of Grand Duke Ivan Romanov and Lady Lydia Andreyevna. If anyone has any objection, speak now or forever hold your peace..."
Silence.
Lydia's heart raced. Her chest felt tight, her hands cold. This didn't feel like her life anymore.
The priest turned to the groom. "Do you, Ivan Romanov, take Lydia Andreyevna to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love and to protect, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do," Ivan said, without hesitation.
The priest then turned to her. His voice broke through her trance.
"And do you, Lydia Andreyevna, take Ivan Romanov to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Lydia blinked and found her voice. "I... I do."
"With the power vested in me by the Church and the Crown, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may rise."
Applause followed, but Lydia barely heard it.
At the Palace – Ceremony
The palace ballroom was transformed for the occasion. Musicians played soft music, nobles mingled, and servants moved swiftly with wine and hors d'oeuvres. [You could add a little note about the decor here if you want — chandeliers, seasonal flowers, etc.]
But as the grand doors opened and the Czar Vladimir, Queen Olga, and Prince Leonid entered, the room immediately fell silent.
All guests turned and bowed.
"Please," Vladimir said, voice smooth and commanding. "Enjoy the celebration."
As the newlyweds entered, the room once again erupted in applause. Ivan and Lydia took their place at the center, receiving congratulations from a long line of nobles and dignitaries.
Lydia's head was still spinning. The cheers, the stares, the reality of everything felt overwhelming. She politely excused herself to get a glass of water before returning.
Lydia smiled, surprised. "I didn't think you would come."
Irina arrived soon after. Her voice was warm as she embraced Lydia.
"My dear godchild. Did you think I'd miss your wedding?"
Irina bowed to Ivan, who offered only a slight nod in return — his expression unreadable, his presence detached from the joy around him.
Next came General Petrov, offering a teasing grin.
"She's beautiful. Reminds me of your mother."
Ivan said nothing, only giving him a sharp glare.
Lydia glanced at him again, thinking: He doesn't seem that terrifying. People called him a devil, even claimed he was hideous. But he's not... not at all.
Then came her family.
Little Pyotr ran forward with curiosity, eyes wide.
"Are you the Grand Duke?" he asked, reaching out to touch Ivan's coat.
Before his fingers could reach, Ivan spoke coldly:
"Do not touch me."
Pyotr immediately recoiled, eyes downcast, and retreated to his father.
Then, as if on cue, Queen Olga approached.
Her voice was light and sweet. "Congratulations, Your Highness. And to you, my dear Lydia. What a stunning bride you are."
Ivan turned to her slowly, face stiff.
With a calm yet cutting voice, he said:
"Whatever game you're playing with this ridiculous marriage, know that I won't entertain it."
Then, looking directly at Lydia, his voice dropped lower.
"I was told to marry you. Don't expect anything else from me. As soon as the sun rises, we're leaving for Svetlana. Have your belongings ready."
He didn't wait for a reply. His face showed no hint of warmth.
Lydia's heart clenched, but she held her posture. He's cold... but I hope he's not like the rumors say, she thought. Please, let him not be.
The celebration slowly drew to a close. It was already late, and one by one, the guests began to leave the palace grounds.
Since it was the royal palace and the night of their marriage, it was expected that the newlyweds would spend the night together.
Lydia was quietly escorted to her new chambers by the royal maids. They helped her bathe and change into a soft nightdress made of delicate lace and silk.
She sat quietly on the bed, staring at the flickering candlelight, her mind still tangled in the whirlwind of the day's events. Despite everything, a small part of her hoped he might come—even just to talk.
But he never did.
Minutes turned to hours. Her eyes grew heavier. Eventually, she dozed off, her heart carrying a quiet disappointment.
---
Meanwhile, Ivan was far from the bridal chambers. Down in the guards' training area, he was practicing sword movements—ignoring the strain of his unhealed wounds. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, the bandages beneath barely holding.
General Petrov and Head Guard Boris stood nearby, arms folded as they watched in silence.
"You just got married," General Petrov finally said with a smirk. "Shouldn't you be spending the night with your bride?"
Boris added, "She might be waiting… or even sad."
Ivan didn't stop. His blade sliced the air with precision.
"I don't care," he muttered. "I never asked for this marriage."
"You're leaving tomorrow then?" Petrov asked.
"Yes," Ivan replied without hesitation.
Boris hesitated. "We checked the cottage again. The old couple weren't there. They might have travelled. I'll go again tomorrow before you leave."
Ivan gave a small nod. "Good."
Then, after a pause, he told them, "Leave. I want to be alone."
They obeyed without another word.
Alone under the moonlight, Ivan continued practicing until the pain in his side caught up with him. Breathing heavily, he finally sheathed his sword.
And with nothing else to distract him, he quietly made his way back to his chambers.
Morning came with a soft glow that peeked through the curtains. Lydia slowly opened her eyes, her body still sore from everything that happened the day before. Her head felt heavy. She turned to the side.
The other side of the bed was empty.
It hadn't been touched at all.
So, he really never came.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her arms as a quiet sigh left her lips. Maybe she had expected too much. Still, it hurt a little.
At least the wedding went well. That was something.
Soon, the doors opened and the royal servants entered. They greeted her and helped her out of bed. One brought a basin of warm water while another prepared her dress. They didn't ask questions, but she could feel their eyes glancing around the room, silently wondering if the Grand Duke had shown up.
After bathing, they dressed her in a soft pink gown. It was light and simple, but still beautiful.
Just as they finished tying the last ribbon, the doors opened again.
Ivan walked in.
He was fully dressed, his expression unreadable as always.
"Come with me," he said shortly.
Lydia followed him without a word.
As they walked through the palace corridors, she kept glancing at him. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding. She wanted to say something—to ask him why he hadn't come last night—but her lips refused to move. He didn't look at her, not even once.
When they reached the grand double doors that led into the throne room, Ivan pushed them open.
Inside, the Czar and Queen were already waiting.
Lydia and Ivan both bowed.
"Congratulations," Vladimir said. His voice was calm as always.
Then came Olga's voice. "How was your night?" she asked, smiling sweetly, but her eyes were sharp. "I heard a little rumour that the bride and groom never even spent it together."
Ivan's jaw tightened. He was about to speak, but Lydia stepped forward.
"That's not true," she said quickly. "Everything went well."
Ivan turned his head slightly, looking at her in silence.
Vladimir nodded, but Olga didn't let it end there. She smiled again. "Good. I'd hate to think my new daughter-in-law was already sleeping alone on her wedding night."
Ivan ignored her completely. "We'll be leaving now," he said, turning to Vladimir. "I've already stayed longer than I wanted. There's work waiting in Svetlana."
The Czar gave a slight nod. "Safe journey."
They both bowed and turned to leave.
But Olga's voice came again, smooth and sweet like honey hiding a sting. "Congratulations again. You two make such a beautiful couple. I truly hope your marriage is… blissful."
Ivan said nothing.
Lydia gave a polite smile, but her heart felt heavy.
As soon as they stepped out into the corridor, the heavy doors of the throne room closing behind them, Ivan broke the silence.
"Why did you lie back there?" His voice was cold.
Lydia looked up at him, caught off guard. "I… I didn't know what to say," she replied quietly. "I thought they might get angry at you."
He stopped walking and turned to her.
"And who might you be?" he asked, his voice sharp and distant. "I already told you. Don't expect anything from this marriage."
Lydia opened her mouth, trying to explain. "I was just trying to help—"
"Did I ask for your help?" he cut her off coldly. "Were you expecting a thank you?"
She didn't know what to say.
He stared at her with that same cold expression. "Don't interfere with my life. That's the last time I'll warn you."
Then he turned around. "Be downstairs in ten minutes. We're leaving now."
With that, he walked off.
Lydia stood there, frozen. Her chest tightened. Her eyes stung, but she blinked back the tears.
How could someone be so cold and indifferent?
She bit her lip and walked back to her chambers in silence.
---
A short while later, they were both seated in the carriage, ready to leave the palace. Not a single word passed between them. The ride was quiet—too quiet.
As the carriage rolled through the streets, Lydia finally spoke. "Please stop at my house."
The rider pulled the reins and slowed down. Ivan turned to her slightly, his eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"I need to say goodbye to my family… and get my things."
He didn't respond. He only looked out the window.
The carriage pulled up in front of the Andreyevna house, and Lydia stepped down.
She glanced once at Ivan, but he wasn't looking at her.
She sighed softly and walked toward the house.