Staring at him, I suddenly feel the cold of this church, the red light bleeding through the stained glass, pooling at his feet around the frosted cobbles.

I look up to his sister behind him, in her bridesmaid’s dress.

If I squint hard enough, it could be a wedding dress, grey lace and white satin, diamonds in her obsidian hair and a tiara.

Like mine, but beautiful.

Truly beautiful.

Though, she’d look beautiful in anything.

If I wish hard enough, I could be marrying her, I could her holding her hands in mine, I could be in her arms, instead of the prince of the red light.

And the red blood.

And the red wine.

I flick my eyes between them, willing her face to merge with his, willing for her to be standing in front of me, saying vows that will actually mean something.

Then I stare back at her brother. He has no name to me. He has no identity, he deserves no identity.

This is a power bid. I marry him, he doesn’t invade, my queendom lives. I have his palace. This isn’t for love, but if I do happen to find it, it’s not going to be with him.

I’m sure he’ll have other women.

But no one’s going to be as good as Aaliyah.

I stare at the ring she hands to The Prince, meanwhile I hold the ring she gave me weeks ago, in my closed palm.

Sapphire and silver.

I let him put the ruby and gold on my finger, never making eye contact. All the while, holding hers.

I say my vows, crossing my fingers behind my back, staring past her brother, straight into Aaliyah’s charcoal-brown eyes.

Because I can see she’s wearing my ring.

And her brother’s stolen signet.

Because he doesn’t know it, but he has just handed every last ounce of power he has over to our new, shared Queendom.