Written for Flash! Friday vol. 2-35. This week’s prompt was to “include a wedding”, and the image prompt is shown.
“Lord Shrewsbury, I protest! I cannot wed her!”
The wise and wizened Earl of Shrewsbury thumbed through the massive tome, titled “Statvta Britannia Penvltima”. Young Henry craned his neck to read the page, but the volume was written in Canis Latina, a dead language spoken by an ancient civilization that flunked Latin.
“Our beloved planet Britannia Penultima’s laws are perfectly unambiguous,” the Earl told him. “I quote: ‘He who bests the Queen in the royal contest, shall her immediately wed.'”
“But Lord, do we not already have a king?!”
“Eleven, sire. Her Royal Highness is notoriously terrible at checkers.”
Queen Maggs winked at Henry. “Our game is rather Texas Hold’em.”
Henry wondered how to break the news to his girlfriend.
“Come, come. Cheer up,” Queen Maggs said, taking Henry’s hand. “Now we shall have one husband for each month of the year.”
A priest approached. From somewhere nearby, hidden speakers began to play the Wedding March.