Ranger's Apprentice: The Tantalizing Tales

A dress - more or less

In which Duncan knows his daughter will be the death of him but still loves her dearly.

~~~

The door slammed open, violently and without warning. Yet King Duncan didn't as much as bat an eye at the loud movement. It was almost sunset and so he had been expecting his guest, including their rude entrance. Putting down the report that he'd been reading - honestly, he was rather thankful for the distraction - he looked up to meet his guest's eyes.

'Yes, Cassie?'

His daughter beamed at him. Her cheeks were rosy, undoubtedly from energetically running up the stairs to his office. The intricate updo that one of her maids must have spent many minutes of hard work on was already starting to lose some strands, which playfully bounced around her face. Eyes big and smile even bigger, Cassandra threw her arms in the air and made a few turns.

'What do you think?'

'You look beautiful,' Duncan replied. It wasn't a lie - she did. If not for the dress, then for the energy and excitement which she had brought into his office. As for the dress-- the King wasn't quite sure that the piece of clothing could be named as such. Granted, it provided sufficient cover, but the v-neckline was so deep that little could be left to the imagination. Her back was almost completely bare, and the glittery piece of cloth that separated the bodice from the skirt was translucent. The sleeves were long, and wide, fitting perfectly with the other dresses worn at court. Combined with the rest, however, they seemed to make a mockery of the courtiers' fashion.

But that wasn't all.

A small movement at the bottom of the dress caught his attention. The bright-red fabric seemed to break there, and split into two. Duncan wasn't very up-to-date on all the latest fashion trends, but knowing his daughter, he was 99% sure about this. He met her eyes.

'How deep is that slit, exactly?'

Cassandra pointed to somewhere just under her hip.

Inwardly, Duncan groaned. The ballroom downstairs was filled with old money, whose owners were sticklers for protocol and tradition. To them, it was already a disgrace that Duncan had refused to remarry after Rosalinde's passing. If they would now see his daughter, still not of age, with no concrete prospect of marriage, wearing this daring and revealing dress...

Intuitively, Duncan knew that he would have to spend the night ignoring sneering side comments and countering any remarks that his guests dared make to his face. He would have to spend the night controlling his temper and choosing his words even more carefully than ever before. Even worse, he would have to spend the night defending his daughter, yet without offending any of the nobles on whose support he was dependent.

Apparently, Cassandra could tell of his worries. She put a calming hand on his arm and looked at him. Her smile was innocent, reassuring. But the devious twinkle in her eyes did not go past him.

'Don't worry, dad. I'm wearing leggings underneath!'

Duncan sighed. Somehow, that didn't make it any better.