The Wedding Dress

She felt...

Beautiful.

She stared at the mirror.

Her hair was curled and arranged into an elegant, yet intricate bun, and her eyes were painted with black liner. Her lips were stained a soft red, and her cheeks a gentle pink. The gown fell over her body as delicately as a feather, and she felt like she was floating in the air, rather than standing on the ground.

The dress was a masterpiece.

Pale yellow silk, overlaid with sheer lace, and embroidered with flowers and birds. The bodice was tight, and her breasts pushed up to make her chest seem fuller, while the waist was cinched tight, her hips giving a gentle flare to the shape of her dress, and a full skirt that swept the ground.

There was no train on the dress, and the sleeves were short, leaving her shoulders exposed. A golden band was wrapped around her neck to match the embroidery, and a delicate golden veil attached to a flower shaped tiara completed the look.

...It was beautiful.

But.

The dress was so tight she could hardly breathe. It left her shoulders exposed, and the air in the castle was frigid, so she was shivering.

And most of all...

It was her wedding dress.

She'd never thought about being married before. In her old life, she'd never considered what the idea of becoming someone's bride was like. In this life...

It was a death sentence.

She knew that. She understood that. But it still felt like a cruel joke. A mockery. A farce. To be dressed up in such finery and then sent off to her doom. The knowledge of what awaited her at the end of this wedding ceremony was a bitter pill to swallow.

She took a shaky breath and tried to steady herself. She needed to get through this. To survive. To escape. And she couldn't do that if she was too busy panicking over her fate.

She had to keep her wits about her. Had to remain calm and collected. If she could do that, then maybe she'd be able to find a way out of this mess.

The door opened, and Rache turned to see who had entered.

Donncahd stood in the doorway, dressed in his own finery. His suit was made of black silk and velvet, embroidered with golden thread, and his boots were polished to a shine. He wore a cape of deep red, lined with fur, and his hair had been combed back from his face.

He looked handsome, but cold and unapproachable.

His eyes were hard, and his expression was unreadable. He didn't speak, just stared at her for a long moment.

She found her voice before he spoke.

It was weak, reedy, strained with the tightness of the dress and the fear of how this marriage was bringing her one step closer to her doom.

Of the discomfort of marrying a man she barely knew.

But she spoke all the same.

"The groom...isn't supposed to see the bride before the wedding."

She didn't know if that was true in this world, or in Sidera in particular, but it felt like a safe enough thing to say.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over her. "A foolish tradition. I don't care for it."

She swallowed. She couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed at his words. It seemed like a silly thing to be upset about, considering the circumstances, but she'd always liked the idea of the groom seeing his bride for the first time on the wedding day.

She thought the concept was romantic, and sweet. A moment of joy and anticipation finally paid off.

If she ever imagined being married, which she didn't remember doing so, she'd imagined...

Someone romantic.

Strong, but gentle.

Chivalrous despite the fact that chivalry was dead.

Kind.

Warm.

...Things Donncahd wasn't. Couldn't be, she felt, even if he wanted to be. His personality wasn't suited to those things.

He was a conquerer and a warrior. A prince. He was used to taking what he wanted, and doing whatever was necessary to achieve his goals.

She wasn't even one of those goals.

Aurania was, she was just a step on the way.

A step that would be splashed with blood.

"You're pale." He said, finally. "Yellow was a terrible choice."

She pressed her lips together, looking down at the dress, and then back up at him. "...I like it."

His expression didn't shift, and he didn't respond to her words.

Instead, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more. She took another deep breath and tried to calm herself. She had to get through this. Had to find a way to escape. And she couldn't do that if she was too busy panicking over her fate.

She was going to be married to the man who would kill her.

But it wasn't the wedding that was her death sentence, was it?

If anything, when she should really panic was when that aging king died and Donncahd was poised to ascend to the throne.

Auberon's Edge didn't provide a lot of details about the fate of the tragic Queen Airie, but it did confirm that it happened after her ascension to queen.

So.

There was no reason to fear this meaningless marriage.

Her hands shook. Her head felt light. She was dizzy. The world seemed to spin around her, and she couldn't breathe.

She was going to pass out.

She was going to die.

This was it.

This was the end.

There was nothing she could do. Nothing anyone could do. Her fate was sealed.

A glass of water filled her vision.

"Drink, you foolish waif." Donncahd's voice was cold. "If I must have you carried into the ceremonial hall, I will."

Her gaze turned up toward his.

There was no humor in his eyes. No hint of teasing.

"Or are you comfortable with the world knowing just how fragile Aurania is?"

She grit her teeth.

The glass was pressed to her lips. She parted them, and he tilted the glass, allowing her to take a small sip of water.

It was cold, and felt good on her tongue and throat.

She didn't realize until that moment just how dry her mouth was. How much she wanted that water.

"Better?" His voice was quiet. Controlled. "You're not dying."

She took another small sip, and then nodded. "I'm fine." Her voice was weak, and her hands were still shaking, but she felt better. More stable. Less likely to pass out. "Not dying."

She said that...

More for herself than for him.

She wasn't dying.

She wouldn't die.

This man standing in front of her wouldn't kill her.

No matter what.

She had to remember.

She wouldn't let herself die.

He stared at her for a long moment, as if assessing her, and then nodded. "Good."

And then he left, leaving her alone once more.

In the silence, as she gasped for breath, she found the delicate eye make-up ruined by tears she couldn't even begin to explain.