The Lost Princess

Apparently We're Married

© 2011 Astrix

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                                                    Chapter 8

                                                          Apparently we’re married

After having another glass of whiskey, Blair makes his way up to his chamber. After a few minutes of passing around in front of the door, Blair stops, grabbing hold of the doorknob, and turning it to the right. He swallows and pushes the door open.

Lucinda is standing in front of a mirror, her eyes scanning her figure as the Maid, Claire ties the corset at the back, “ok, that’s enough, I can’t breathe.” Lucinda brings her hands back trying to get rid of the corset.

“But Miss, it is tradition to wear a corset,” Claire states, pushing Lucinda’s hands away, “it is part of our culture.”

What a lame culture. I can’t believe I’m from here; their traditions are so, ugh. I seriously can’t breathe, “So your culture is to murder females by tying a, what you called it? Corset? Around their stomach so they can’t breathe?”

 “The Corset is to shape your body,” Claire tells her, tying the corset tighter, causing Lucinda to gasp for air, “That way men can see your beautiful figure.”

Blair takes that moment to make his presence known, “I personally think she looks just as beautiful without the corset.” Both females turn to look at the door where Blair is leaning against the doorframe, “if she doesn’t want to wear a corset, she doesn’t have to.”

“Yes sir,” Clair vows and quickly begins to remove the corset. Once is off, the dress falls loosely, the only tight part being what is pushing Lucinda’s breast up to show some cleavage. Lucinda sighs in satisfaction, and turns to look at herself. She likes the dress. It’s a soft peach dress, according to Claire, is what women who are unwed wear. Apparently, soft colors mean that a woman is a maiden, while dark colors means she is wed, and of course, bright colors mean that she is a wrong sort of women. When Lucinda asked her what that meant, she was given a confused look by Claire before she was informed of the meaning, “Those are the women that are not wed, yet sleep with men, who might be or might not. Do you not have those type of women in you country?” We don’t have women at all, Lucinda wanted to say, but instead she shook her head, “Well, good for you.”

Claire placed her long black air up in a bun, another thing that annoys Lucinda. She has also put colorful things on her face, yet another thing Lucinda hates. The ring on her right finger, and the pearl necklace around her neck she liked.

“I will leave you to be then,” Claire vows to them both before leaving.

“You look-“

“Horrible?” Lucinda asks him, turning around to face him, “you can say it, I won’t be hurt.”

“I was going to say you look beautiful,” Blair tells her, closing the door behind him and walking towards her.

“Really?” Lucinda looks at him confuse, “because I do not feel it. I do not like the paint on my face, or that I cannot have my hair down, and I did not like that thing,” she looks at the corset, which lies on the bed, “thank you, for not allowing me to wear it.”

Blair looks at her, really looks at her, and realizes that she is right. Of course, he never understood why women wear makeup, as a kid he always thought it made them look like clowns. But as he got older, he noticed the difference between girls who had yet to wear makeup, and women that did. It was sort of a way to differentiate them, and a step from childhood to womanhood.