FicWad

Italics are her thoughts.The view from the hotel window is dismal. Rain spatters the trees that encroach on the winding road to Draqueen. Raseleane can barely stand the sight, however the scene inside the room is scarcely better. She knows that her mother is still busily examining the dress, with the huge grin that hasn't left her face since word came from the castle requesting Raseleane's presence. Her jollity has slowly eroded all of Raseleane's forced cheer, since her fate was confirmed not a fortnight ago.

Finally she turns, the unending rain is not helping her depressed state and the first thing she sees is that dress, glorious on its mannequin and her mother scurrying around it, plumping ruffles, tucking here, straightening there and singing a nonsense as she does so.

"I think you care more for that dress than you do for anything else in this world."
"Ah but dear, we have to show them that you're suitable. Everything has to be perfect, exquisite. This dress is an important part of that. We're not hicks from the backwater, every detail must be perfect." She turns to her daughter. "And you are suitable, don't ever worry about that. Didn't the Dragonlord himself send for you?"
"I know."
"How often do you think a girl is born with Dragoneyes?"
"..."
"I knew the moment you were born that you were destined to marry the Dragonlord and I've trained you well to prepare for it."

Raseleane turns away again.
"And he knows this also?"
"Of course, I sent a letter to the castle the day you were born."
"So we've always been engaged to be married?"
"Well, a little less certain than that. They had to be sure you wouldn't die of colic or something, or turn out unsuitable."
"Then why did he never ask to meet me before?"
"Whatever you do don't ask him that! You have to be respectful, a proper lady. I didn't raise an ungrateful child! He will be your lord and you must always act as though he is the centre of the universe. Men like that, no matter how important they are. You are beautiful, sophisticated, noble and delicate. He will adore you, never worry."
As she speaks, the older woman starts to fuss around her daughter in a similar way to that spent on the dress. In addition to plumping, tugging and straightening her clothing, she also pokes Raseleane into a more suitable posture.

My mother lives in fear of the unsuitable. I've been preparing for my marriage since I was old enough to comprehend that I would have to sublimate all of my wants and desires for some shadowy male figure. I sometimes wish that I should prove to be unsuitable and have my own life for once. I think that mother would die of shame though, and she has trained me well. My needs are nothing compared to those of my future lord and h...husband.

"Are you hungry dear? I'll go and order some food to be brought up."
"Let's both go downstairs, we can eat in the dining area with the other guests."
"Raseleane!" Her mother is shocked at the suggestion. "You are the future queen of Draqueen, it's unthinkable that you eat with them. There are unsavoury types down there and we don't want any scandal or mishap. You stay here where it's safe. I'll be back soon." She leaves the room.

She leaves me with that dress! Everywhere we go, I'm confined to my room, for fear of scandal, with that dress! She takes it out every night, in every hotel room, when it will only be packed away again once daylight comes, carefully and lovingly, in an attempt to foil the creases that always appear. I'm just another mannequin, another puppet to wear it. My job will end when I take it down the aisle and chain my future to his for all eternity.

The dress is gorgeous. It glimmers sadly on its dummy, unaware of the misery its presence causes in the one destined to wear it. It's made of purest white, from silk and lace. Tiny pearls are beaded onto its surface and soft embroidery embosses flowers and dragons onto its surface. It's breathtaking and heartbreaking. Raseleane has only worn it once, for the first fitting. Ever since, her diet has been strictly controlled to ensure that she neither gains nor loses weight before her grand performance.

"If this were a happy occassion, you'd be the dress I'd long to wear. I remember my best friend's wedding. She got to marry someone she'd loved since she was a small girl and she looked so happy and beautiful. No matter how many pearls they string into my hair, I'll never be as beautiful as she was that day." Raseleane grasps the hem of the dress and sinks to the floor. As she falls, two tears fall onto the fabric and she buries her face in the cloth to hide the ones that follow.

"Raseleane!" Her mother has returned. "Get away from there, you'll crease the dress." Raseleane pulls away and turns to the window again. The sounds of her mother's fussing follow her as the raindrops on the glass outside mirror those on her face inside.