I Do

Isabel Vesper-Hollingsworth walked down the wooden aisle of the old church with her head held high and an unreadable expression on her face. All eyes were locked on her tall, slim figure; her white wedding dress, with the lace and skirt straight from a fairytale, only accentuated her beauty.

Isabel Vesper-Hollingsworth walked down the wooden aisle of the old church with her head held high and a rare smile on her lips. All eyes were locked on her tall, slim figure; her white wedding dress, covering her curves in all the right places, only accentuated her beauty.

Around her eyes was black smudged black make-up, like the kohl one would imagine on ancient Egyptian woman. Her cheeks were coated with blush and her lips were a ruby red, matching the red ribbon around her waist and the color theme of the wedding- red and silver. No flaws could be seen on her cinnamon skin; her hair, silky and dark, was curled into a tight bun at the top of her head. It made her head ache even more than it already was. Perhaps she shouldn't have drowned her sorrows in questionable drinks the night before.

Her face was devoid of any make-up besides mascara, eyeliner, a small bit of blush, and a light-colored lipstick. Isabel wanted, on her wedding day, to look natural- in her disgustingly sentimental mind, it represented how she felt with her groom. She could be anyone she wanted with him… she didn't need the make-up. She only wore it because she liked to. Her hair hung, unhindered, down to her waist; it swung as she walked, long and dark, shining in the light. Her head was swimming; it was all so surreal. She couldn't believe this was finally happening; everything she had ever dreamed of since she had first developed hormones.

Elegant and graceful, she strode onto the altar. She and her groom looked like a queen and king, each with their near-perfect looks and airs of superiority. He wore an Armani tuxedo of the highest quality, accessorized by a custom-made, blood red tie. Black hair was slicked back neatly, and his face held a certain smugness that, if someone noticed it, no one mentioned.

Elegant and graceful, she strode onto the altar. She and her groom made a beautiful couple; she with her air of deviousness, he with his ever-present calm. They balanced each other out perfectly. He wore a rented tuxedo and the one tie that he owned: It was purple, and Isabel only forgave him for wearing it because it was her favorite color, and matched the décor of the wedding. It looked as though the groom had tried to tame his afro; he had obviously, however, failed. His gaze as he looked at his bride-to-be was nothing short of elated.

Isabel didn't pay attention to the words of the minister or the vows. When she received her cue to read hers, she recited them from memory, not even bothering to try and act like she meant them. She wished she was gone, that she was anywhere but here, listening to her groom's sniveling voice drawl about what he would and wouldn't do in his marriage. Words that a thousand people had proclaimed a thousand times. They were just that: words. And nothing more than that.

Isabel absorbed each and every detail as she stood opposite her groom. The minister's speech, word for word; the faces of the guests, lined with happy tears; the purple and white silk hanging from the ceiling. When it came her time to read her vows, she spoke the words she had written herself; her fiancé did the same. Both their voices were laced with passion and love. Isabel wanted to remember this day forever.

The legendary question was asked: "Does anyone object to the union of this man and woman?"

Isabel was silently screaming, Yes, yes, yes; she just wished she had the courage to say it out loud.

The legendary question was asked: "Does anyone object to the union of this man and woman?"

Isabel sees her father discreetly nodding. He'd never approved of her Texan-accented, guitar-playing boyfriend. But the minister doesn't notice, and so the service goes on.

One second; lips awkwardly brushing against each other; polite clapping.

Thirty seconds; lips moving in sync against each other in a well known pattern; raucous cheering.

It was over; the wedding was done. Isabel and Vikram Kabra moved on to their classy reception, with old, powerful friends of the family and chandeliers and forced politeness and dancing to only classical music.

It was over; the wedding was done. Isabel and Broderick Wizard move on to their party, filled with all their young friends and flashing lights and laughing and music made for shaking your hips. For that one night, even Isabel lets her hair down.

She would rather be dead right now.

She's never felt happier to be alive.

Before you ask, yes, this DID follow all the contest's rules:

1. The story had to include any two pairings involved in the 39 Clues, being married at once. I used two different pairings: Isabel/Vikram, and Isabel/Broderick. While Isabel married Vikram in the real world, she was marrying Broderick in her mind. (And, yes, this IS a double wedding. Two different couples being married at the same time.)

2. Not a songfic.

3. I described both dresses and the grooms' outfits, as well as the color schemes.

4. They're the right age, even if it's not mentioned.

5. Isabel objects in her and Vikram's wedding; her father objects in her and Broderick's wedding. (You never said the objections had to be out loud...)

6. Isabel's not OOC. I don't think, anyways. We know little of her younger days, anyways; when I imagine Isabel in love (in the case of her and Broderick's wedding), she's head over high heels.

7. Grammar's good.

8. Read the summary.

9. I sent Little Lobster a PM.

You see? I followed each and every one of the rules. I just found loopholes. XD

Thank you for reading, and please review; also, when the time comes, feel free to vote for me in the contest, if you want. :D

-Joelle8