Marvel: The Awakened One

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The next day.

Trinity Church!

Founded in 1839, Trinity Church boasted a history spanning over a century. Its twin bell towers soared into the sky, their trident-like spires and intricate carvings making the entire Gothic Revival structure a breathtaking sight.

With its main spire reaching a height of two hundred and eighty-one feet, it was once the tallest building on Manhattan Island, reaching up as if to meet the gaze of God Himself.

And starting the night before, Trinity Church had been locked down tighter than the Pentagon.

Before the sun even came up, men in sharp black suits and dark sunglasses, their expressions carved from stone, had taken up positions at every street corner and alleyway leading to the church.

Local NYPD officers, completely out of the loop, had tried to investigate and were promptly turned away.

The official reason: Classified federal operation.

If they pushed: You don’t have the clearance to know.

However...

Anyone holding a wedding invitation was allowed to pass through the perimeter without a hitch.

Peter and Felicia.

Thor and Jane.

Tony and Pepper.

Mary Jane and her new boyfriend from LA.

The Chloes.

The Stacys.

As the morning sun bathed Trinity Church in a warm, golden light, the bells began to toll their melodious chime. Guests from all over New York, and beyond, drove through the secured checkpoints, parked their cars, and walked toward the church, their voices filled with laughter and anticipation.

Inside, the air was thick with the mingled scents of beeswax candles and fresh white lilies. The long oak pews had been polished to a mirror shine, and a pristine crimson carpet ran the length of the central aisle, leading all the way to the altar.

Near the choir stalls, a young organist—who had arrived at dawn, motivated by a generous ten-thousand-dollar tip—was softly adjusting the stops on the massive pipe organ.

Low, resonant notes drifted through the cavernous space, echoing warmly beneath the vaulted ceiling.

But...

Unlike the guests who were slowly filling the pews, the wedding party was separated at the door.

The groomsmen went right.

The bridesmaids went left.

The groomsmen needed to get into their tuxes. The bridesmaids had a much harder job: getting themselves dressed while also helping the bride with her hair, makeup, and dress.

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In a private room on the left side of the church.

Gwen, the bride-to-be, sat in front of a vanity mirror, looking like a masterpiece in progress.

Helen looked at her daughter, her eyes shining with a proud, tearful smile. With careful, trembling hands, she took an antique, pearl-encrusted hairpin and secured it in Gwen’s elegantly styled updo.

”Your great-grandmother’s. Something old,” Helen whispered, her voice catching slightly with the bittersweet emotion of a mother giving her daughter away.

Jane Foster, serving as Maid of Honor to match Thor’s role as Best Man, stepped forward and presented a pair of pristine, white silk heels. ”Something new. May your new life be filled with brilliance.”

Next, Gwen reached into a jewelry box and delicately fastened a beautiful sapphire bracelet around her wrist.

She looked at the sapphires sparkling against her pale skin and smiled.

Just then.

Mary Jane, who had flown back from LA just for this, pulled a small, silver coin from her purse like a magician performing a trick. She slipped it into one of Gwen’s shoes and looked up with a grin. ”A silver sixpence. It’s an old London tradition. Good luck in your shoe. Because you can never have too much good luck, right?”

Gwen laughed, thanking her best friend. With the help of Jane and Mary Jane, she stood up from the vanity.

Helen held up the dress.

The room fell silent as Helen carefully lifted the pristine white gown, and with the bridesmaids’ help, guided it over Gwen’s head, letting it fall into place.

It was a classic, satin A-line gown. The clean, elegant lines accentuated the graceful curve of Gwen’s neck and her slender waist, while the long train cascaded behind her like the petals of a blooming flower.

Her makeup was light and natural, enhancing her radiant, almost ethereal beauty.

She wore very little jewelry—just two small pearl earrings and the blue sapphire bracelet. She knew that today, her most beautiful accessory would be her smile.

Gwen looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror.

From this moment on, the girl in the mirror was no longer just Gwen Stacy. She was a woman stepping into a new chapter of her life. She was Gwen Phoenix.

Knock, knock.

”Come in!”

Gwen pulled herself from her thoughts and turned toward the door.

It opened to reveal George Stacy, looking incredibly sharp in a tailored tuxedo.

George looked at his daughter in her wedding dress. A look of profound awe crossed his face, followed by a fleeting shadow of sadness. He took a deep, steadying breath.

”Are you ready, my little girl?”

”I’m ready, Dad.”

Gwen’s smile was brighter than the sun.

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By 11:00 AM, the guests were seated.

The men in crisp, dark suits, the women in an array of elegant dresses—it looked like a high-fashion runway show.

Traditionally, the bride’s family and friends sat on the left, the groom’s on the right.

But Hawk’s guest list was notoriously short.

So...

Gwen had ’loaned’ him some of her friends. The pews on his side quickly filled up. The guests spoke in hushed, excited whispers, the air buzzing with a warm, anticipatory energy.

Hawk was already standing at the altar.

Soon.

At exactly 11:30 AM, the church bells tolled the half-hour, the sound echoing through the massive sanctuary.

Instantly—

The murmurs ceased. The guests sat up straight, their eyes turning as one toward the closed double doors at the back of the church.

The organist transitioned smoothly, the first, majestic chords of that familiar, sacred melody filling the air.

The Wedding March.

The heavy oak doors slowly swung open, a flood of bright sunlight pouring into the church.

The wedding party entered first.

The groomsmen, sharp in dark gray tuxedos, walked in pairs with the bridesmaids, who wore elegant, flowing dresses in a soft, dusty blue, carrying bouquets of white tulips and champagne roses.

The groomsmen took their places beside Hawk, while the bridesmaids lined up on the opposite side, leaving the center aisle clear.

Next came the children.

Four-year-old Jean, the flower girl, wearing a miniature version of a white tulle dress, carried a small basket. With a mix of shyness and intense concentration, she scattered handfuls of rose petals along the crimson carpet.

Five-year-old Cooper Barton, the ring bearer, looking impossibly serious in a tiny tuxedo, carried a small white pillow with two replica rings tied to it.

Right behind him was the Maid of Honor, Jane Foster.

She walked alone, her steps measured and graceful, representing the bride’s closest friend and confidante.

And then.

The music paused for a heartbeat.

When it resumed, the chords swelled with a triumphant, overwhelming majesty. The guests rose to their feet as one, turning to face the entrance.

And there she was.

Gwen, her hand resting lightly on her father’s arm.

The sunlight streaming through the open doors behind her seemed to crown her in a halo of brilliant light, outlining the edges of her pristine white gown. Beneath her veil, her face was breathtakingly beautiful, radiating a mixture of shyness, pure joy, and absolute, unwavering certainty.

Her gaze cut straight down the long aisle, locking onto the man standing at the altar, who was staring back at her with equal intensity.

As their eyes met.

Every step she took was slow and deliberate. Her father’s arm was her steady support, and the guests lining the aisle looked on with admiration, tears, and silent blessings.

But in her world, right now, there was only the man at the end of the aisle, standing tall in his black tuxedo.

Hawk, who hadn’t seen Gwen since the bachelor party the night before, felt the breath catch in his throat as he looked at her.

Soon—

George and Gwen reached the altar. George looked at Hawk, his voice low, filled with a father’s reluctance, but also a deep, abiding trust.

”I’m giving her to you. Take care of her.”

”I will, Mr. Stacy. I swear it.”

Hawk met his gaze, his expression solemn.

George placed Gwen’s hand in Hawk’s. He gave them one last look, then turned and stepped down, taking his seat next to his wife, Helen.

Hawk and Gwen turned together, facing the altar and Father Robert, who was waiting for them.

Father Robert was a kind—elderly man with wise—gentle eyes behind his spectacles.

He smiled at the couple, his voice ringing out clear and strong, carrying to the very back of the church. ”Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of God, and of this company, to witness the holy union of Hawk Phoenix and Gwen Stacy in matrimony. Marriage is a sacred covenant instituted by God, the ultimate expression of love and commitment. It is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, and soberly.”

Father Robert delivered the opening invocation with gravity and sincerity. He then looked out at the assembled guests. ”If anyone here can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let them speak now, or else hereafter forever hold their peace.”

The church was perfectly silent.

Father Robert waited a moment, then turned to Hawk.

”Hawk Phoenix, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

Hawk turned his head, looking into the eyes beneath the veil—the eyes he wanted to look into for the rest of his life.

His voice was firm, clear, and filled with absolute certainty.

”I will.”

The priest then turned to Gwen.

”Gwen Stacy, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

Tears shimmered in Gwen’s eyes. She looked back into Hawk’s eyes—eyes that were no longer swirling with the cold light of cosmic stars, but were filled entirely, completely, with her. Her voice was soft, but just as certain.

”I will.”

The Best Man—Thor—his hair slicked back to look like a responsible adult, pulled the two real wedding rings from his pocket and handed them to the priest.

Father Robert took the rings, blessing and consecrating them.

Hawk took the smaller ring and carefully slipped it onto the ring finger of Gwen’s left hand, repeating the vows after the priest. ”Gwen, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Gwen took the slightly larger ring. Her hand trembled slightly with emotion, but she slid it steadily onto Hawk’s finger. ”Hawk, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

Father Robert turned back to the congregation.

”Forasmuch as Hawk and Gwen have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a ring, I pronounce that they are husband and wife.”

The priest paused, letting the words sink in. He looked out at the guests, who were practically vibrating with anticipation, then turned back to Hawk, and spoke the words everyone had been waiting for.

”You may now kiss the bride.”

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