Burned Into Glory

To Understand

"What do you think of this one?" asked Vinda, and when she turned around, Queenie struggled to keep a straight face. She shook her head a little and admitted,

"It's... it's a lot of lace. A lot of lace."

"This style has been in vogue for a century," argued Madame Trousseau. Queenie pinched her lips and studied the frilly design that was poufing off of Vinda's slim body, making her look oddly voluminous. Queenie shrugged.

"In America, we wore clothes similar to the No-Majs because we needed to blend in. We couldn't wear proper robes or anything like European wizards, because the No-Majs would, you know..."

"Oppress you for being magical," Vinda nodded, and Queenie shrugged again as she said lightly,

"Anyway, we always wound up wearing what was in style for the No-Majs. And this dress kind of reminds me of stuff that I would see in photographs from forty, fifty years ago. It just doesn't seem very stylish, and you're such a fashionable witch, Vinda. Let's see something else."

Madame Trousseau helped Vinda out of the frilly, lacy gown and slid her into a long-sleeved, high-necked gown in cream-coloured silk. The instant Madame Trousseau began to do up the back, Queenie gasped from where she sat on the edge of Vinda's bed and marveled,

"That looks like a dream."

"I do quite like this one." Vinda stared at herself in the full-length mirror, studying the simple, watery silk design, and she asked, "Do you think Sieg will like it?"

Sieg Larsen. It was odd to hear his given name; Queenie always thought of him only as Larsen. She grinned and nodded.

"I think Larsen would think you were the most beautiful woman in the world in that, Vinda. Oooh, look at the train."

Madame Trousseau carefully arranged the short train, which had embroidery and beading on it, just like the sleeves did. Vinda's eyes welled in the mirror as Madame Trousseau carefully arranged tortoiseshell combs into her coiffed hair; the combs had an elegant but simple veil attached. The veil ran all the way down Vinda's back and reached the floor, and suddenly Queenie felt like she was going to cry. She'd never had real friends in her life, and with Vinda she felt like she really did have one. She pulled out her wand and Conjured a bouquet of cream roses, which she handed over to Vinda to hold so the look was complete. Vinda stared at herself in the mirror and whispered,

"Yes. This is the one."

"Ooh!" Queenie squealed and clapped her hands merrily. She kicked her feet in delight and whimpered, "You're going to be the most elegant, most beautiful bride there ever, ever was, Vinda. You look perfect."

"Merci." Vinda turned over her shoulder and smiled weakly. "I wonder, Queenie, if you would consider being our witness in the binding ceremony. We only need one besides the officiant. We would be honoured if you would consider it."

"Oh! Oh, my goodness. The honour's all mine!" Queenie exclaimed, and she scoffed as she shook her head. "My goodness; I can't believe all this joy. All this... all this happiness."

And she couldn't. Not really. Things felt good today. She'd awakened to find Grindelwald in her bed, dreaming of her, and when he'd woken, he'd kissed her neck and whispered that he loved her. Then they'd had breakfast alone together, and he'd gone into the mountains to train Aurelius with the promise that he would be faithful to Queenie. She'd come to Vinda's quarters for the dress fitting, and now she'd been asked to be a witness. There was, truly, an abundance of happiness, it seemed.

And Queenie didn't mind one bit.

"An athletic arena?" Grindelwald raised his brows and drummed his fingers on his desk in his office. Krenn, one of Grindelwald's Austrian associates, nodded his head and confirmed,