Neil Mackenzie

From the top table, Vespa gazed out across the great Feasting Chamber as happy conversation bubbled around her. Butterflies chatted with mantises, mosquitoes gossiped with dragonflies, termites debated with beetles – representatives of every great house of insect, myriapod and arachnid brought together to celebrate her wedding.

Beneath the table, she squeezed her husband’s hand and whispered in his ear: “It looks like my mother’s plan is working very nicely.” 

Vespa had wanted a small family affair, but her mother, Queen Velutina, and the Council of Hornets, keenly aware of the young princess’s popularity, saw an opportunity to modernise their image. Hornets should no longer be feared, but recognised as the gracious, caring, and hospitable creatures they truly are. And so, a grand state wedding was ordained, with invitations sent to all leaders far and wide.

Smiling, Vespa kissed her new husband softly. Love was something she had neither pursued nor expected. At first, she’d dismissed the gentle tickle in her heart as an adolescent distraction. Besides, she had little time for it, as there was too much to read and learn. But love had found her, and there had been no resisting it.

The last (and favourite) child of Queen Velutina, growing up Vespa never embraced the frills and flourishes expected of a young princess. As a teenager, she showed little patience for idle gossip and courtly chatter. Ceremony without logic frustrated her. Rather, she craved knowledge, insisting on a university education. While she read mathematics, biology and sociology, she sought the company of thinkers – even the group of intellectual radicals who whispered of ancient times when arthropods were a minuscule part of a much larger world.

“It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?” her husband replied, beaming at the overflowing plates and brimming goblets.

Indeed, a great deal of care had gone into the arrangements. Visiting royals from the worlds of termites, ants, bees and wasps were paired with local highborn who ushered their guests through the intricacies of hornet customs. The Household Guards, tasked with directing the swarms of visiting arthros angling for a glimpse of the bridal couple, dutifully followed orders to be unfailingly polite. The seating plan delicately balanced old rivalries, new alliances, and the prevailing socio-political currents. Even the menu was strictly vegetarian.

But of all the details, none had been considered more carefully than Vespa’s gown. The subject of endless speculation, it exceeded all expectations. Earlier, as she walked arm-in-arm down the aisle with her mother, a collective gasp of approval had swelled through the Old Cathedral. The bodice, crafted from the lightest fabrics, mimicked the scales of butterfly wings. Sheer sleeves flowed into intricate silk webbing. Her glistening skirt was made of layered fabric, and the train, velvety as caterpillar fur, swept far behind. Crowning the outfit was a headpiece of myriad antennae that swayed gracefully with every step.

Turning her attention to a hidden pocket, Vespa slipped out her phone, glancing at the photo she’d posted of herself and her husband just after the ceremony. She smiled before discreetly replacing it. Of course, it had gone viral – most of the content she posted did – but this was her most liked and shared post ever. Vespa had been one of the first arthropods of nobility to embrace social media, and she became known not only for her ethical views on arthro equity and environmental management but for revealing her life as a princess. Her followers loved her authenticity, and her celebrity influenced well beyond the hornet world.

As her husband nudged her under the table, a flourish of trumpets rang around the chamber, followed by the booming voice of the Grand Drone. 

“Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Blue Bloods, Leaders and representatives of the great Houses of Arthropods...” Formally dressed, wings neatly folded, the elderly administrator stood still, his head bowed, waiting, almost paternally, for the room to hush.

“On behalf of Queen Velutina,” he declared, “I welcome you to the marriage celebration of Princess Vespa and the Very Honourable Zir Hal.” 

Polite applause rippled across the room. 

“Pray silence for... the groom,” he intoned, theatrically rolling the ‘r’ and stretching out the ‘o’s.

Vespa squeezed Hal’s hand. As the page drew back his chair, Hal flashed his wife a reassuring smile, kissed her lightly on the lips and stood tall. A murmur of approval circled, for he was a popular choice of consort: grounded but fun, confident but not arrogant, modern without being radical. Standing before these most important arthropods, he appeared a fine statesman in the making. 

With just the slightest trace of nerves, Hal welcomed the guests, easily remembering the names of key dignitaries. Turning to his left and right, he complimented the princesses on their dresses, thanked his best man, and acknowledged his mother’s unwavering love and support. 

Then Hal grinned. “I will be honest, though,” he said, “when I first met Vespa, I had no idea what I was letting myself in for!” 

A ripple of laughter. 

“There I was, a simple soldier of the court, bewitched by a beautiful princess with a dazzling smile and the sharpest mind. I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to a princess writing a thesis on the possibilities of cellulose microfibrils serving as dense data servers.” 

Vespa flashed her husband a wry smile as the crowd chuckled.

“What strikes me most,” Hal continued, “is that Vespa never accepts that things just are. She doesn’t flatter for favour or follow rules she doesn’t believe in. And yet, she is fiercely devoted – to her people, to her mother, to truth, justice, to her followers…” He frowned and shook his head theatrically at the guests who laughed back at him. “And somehow, miraculously, to me.”

A hum of affection passed through the crowd. 

“She could have chosen a thousand more sophisticated hornets. But she chose me. And a love grounded in respect, curiosity, and the occasional lively debate!”

Vespa nodded enthusiastically, as the guests chittered in amusement.

Hal turned to Queen Velutina. “To my mother-in-law, thank you. Not only for your blessing, but for raising a daughter with such conviction, grace and vision. I will spend my life, Your Highness, trying to be worthy of your trust.”

The Queen was unaccustomed to displays of sentiment, but she blinked rapidly to hold back a tear.

“And thank you,” Hal added, addressing the guests, “for allowing us to share this, our happiest day, with you who have come in peace and friendship.”

“Hear, hear,” called a bee dressed in the garb of a Senior Queen, and a warm chorus of agreement hummed through the Feasting Chamber. 

Finally, Hal turned back to his wife. His voice softened. “My love, my heart, my fierce and fearless friend. I promise to stand beside you through every challenge. To love you without hesitation for all our days.”

He raised a glass of nectar.

“To my extraordinary wife. May our future be full of love, purpose, joy... and just a little bit of mayhem. To Vespa!”

“To Vespa!” shouted back every guest as they drank deeply from the toasting goblets. Cheers, stamps, taps and clicks reverberated around the chamber in an outpouring of celebration. It wasn’t just a toast to a princess, or a bride, but to a better future for everyone.

The guests returned to their seats, agreeing loudly that it was a splendid speech. And what a marvellous couple! But in the prevailing jubilation, no one noticed when one of the senior princesses on the top table slumped forward, then slid back in her chair, clutching her neck. When the husband of another princess started retching, there was good-natured giggling from the front tables – he had a reputation as a bit of a drinker. But when the best man leapt up shrieking, grabbing his throat and kicking out violently, sending plates and goblets crashing, a ripple of unease crept through the room. 

Something was wrong. 

Conversation paused as the guests exchanged nervous glances, trying to make sense of what was happening. Then all eyes were on the top table. Another princess collapsed, vomiting violently. Then another, and another. An elderly hornet shrieked. The guests began edging backwards, slowly at first. Then faster. When comprehension dawned, panic erupted, and everyone surged for the exits.

Vespa stared, stunned. All she could do was watch, transfixed, as her world went into slow motion. The heaving, the crumpling. She turned and saw Hal’s mother clutching her thorax, convulsing, struggling for breath. Further along the table, her sisters and their husbands were either slumped, still, or writhing in pain. For the first time, fear rushed through her. 

Hal? 

She whipped round. He was jerking violently. His face blue, eyes bloodshot, wide and confused, he clutched his throat, desperate to speak but unable. And then he was still.

Vespa lunged for her husband, grabbing him with two hands, frantically shaking his still form. She wrapped her antennae around him, tapping and prodding. Nothing. No vibration, no pulse.

She grabbed his face, screaming his name. His eyes were completely red now, devoid of all life. She tried to kiss him – but someone held her back. 

“Leave me alone!” she shrieked, lashing out at the hands, desperately clinging to her husband. But the grip on her was unyielding. “You mustn’t touch him, my princess,” a voice insisted. “It’s poison. He’s been poisoned. They’ve all been poisoned.”