𝐕𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐃 ❷

𝟒𝟗. ✭ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈 ✭

On each one of my arms lies a crystal bejeweled strap right beneath the shoulder. They don't have a purpose since they don't hold up the heart-shaped neckline, one that is equally bedazzled. It's built-in corset has my breasts perked up unnaturally and my waistline cinched to a size even smaller than my already petite self. Poofing out from there is the lace fabric that's draped over an enormous underskirt, making my bodily proportions seem ridiculously disproportionate.

My seamstress lets out a satisfied hum of a noise before looking over me thoughtfully. I watch in the mirror as she walks around me, her gaze going up and down with the occasional fluff of my dress with her hand here and there. Her index finger taps her chin as she utters something under her breath before taking off out of the room.

My hands fidget uneasily with one another, my right wringing my left wrist, as I look over this version of myself again. My reflection is hardly one I recognize and the dress is not the only thing making me feel that way. It's the overly done make-up on my face and the hair piled on top of my head. It's the gaudy ring sitting on my finger. It's the shoes making me a good five inches taller than my normal self. All of these things altered, designed, tailored to me, for me and yet there is none of me in this image.

"You look like a doll," Tristan's deep voice startles me to the point of nearly falling off the pedestal I'm standing on. "Be careful, Bride Barbie. Don't want you to twist your ankle before the big day." His hands steady me from behind until I'm firmly upright again. "There we go." He lets out a low whistle as one of his hands leaves my waist and goes to finger one of the straps of my dress. "This is a rather shiny number."

"Ostentatious would be an understatement, if you ask me. There's enough crystals embellishing this thing to fill up an entire jewelry store." I wouldn't actually want to be married in anything like it. Simplicity. That's all I've ever wanted in a wedding, if I ever have one of my choosing, not that I'd ever really let myself picture getting married in recent years. It had been too painful to hope for much of anything at one point in my life, let alone marriage during that time. I bring my hand to my abdomen somberly at the memory.

"You hardly need the dress to light up a room but it does shimmer quite a bit. Give us a twirl." He twists his pointer finger around playfully, trying to lighten my now dreary mood, I'm sure.

"It's all a bit... much." My hands twist against each other again as I glance at my heavily-lined grey eyes.

Tristan leans in close to my ear, "I do prefer you with a lot less on. Of the makeup, that is," he quickly interjects, pulling himself away. "You never really wear any." He coughs and looks away from me.

I swallow the feelings that had threatened to choke me down before saying, "that's because I never have a reason to wear it." Other than the bare minium at dinner in the evenings. "I'm locked inside a mountainside fortress, or did you forget?" Not to mention that it'd be a moot point most days considering the fact I have a tendency to break down into tears at any given moment. 

"How could I, I'm with you nearly every day."

Every day. Every night in my bed. Arms wrapped around me. Body pressed against mine.

"Stop that." Tristan grabs ahold of my hands. I hadn't even realized I'd given myself a red ring around my wrist.

A heavy sigh leaves my lips on its' own accord with, "you know what they say about the groom seeing the bride before the wedding and all that." My voice is little more than a whisper at his proximity. "Don't want to jinx anything." We can't afford any bad luck right now.

He shrugs, hazel eyes holding mine in the mirror, "if we were actually getting married maybe then I would be concerned." Even on this stool, with these heels, he's still a touch taller than me, well, aside from my towering hair. "From the state you're in right now, I think it's going to be this coming weekend."