May 18th 1868

The second eldest son of The Royal Family’s arranged marriage had been planned since the second he was old enough to form full sentences- the pact sealed between two families desperate to keep the lineage pure and fruitful. Remus didn’t have a say in any of this - neither did his soon to be wife.

Excited chatter fills the cathedral as Remus stands at the altar, looking around and tapping his foot on the hard flagstones, annoying the priest to no end. He’s wearing a smart suit, his hair unruly and a lingering smell of cigarettes lingering about him. He doesn’t want to marry, what does one talk about with a wife you’ve never met?

Remus isnt one for fussy duddy soppy romance. He hardly knows how to converse with the opposite sex without embarrassing himself. He’d rather stay cooped up in his office sorting out politics and his father’s factory.

Alas, the bell chimes and an organ begins to play. The faces in the pews quiet down and await for the old oak doors to reveal the to-be princess of Wales.