Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▬▬ι══════༻❁༺══════ι▬▬
"I THINK I liked the green one better," Susan muses, tilting her head as she takes in my current dress.
Lucy nods her agreement, searching for a word to describe it. "It's too..."
"Overdone?" I offer, referring to the ornate, golden embroidery and puffed sleeves.
"Definitely."
Susan laughs. "I do like the silhouette, though."
I look at myself in the mirror and decide she's right. The shape is quite flattering.
"I think I need something lighter," Lucy says, her shoulders slouched from the weight of her own dress. I stifle my laugh at the sight of the young queen's hunched figure.
Susan does a quick twirl, her eyes shining as she watches her skirt billow outward. "I quite like this one, actually."
Lucy nods her head vigorously. "I do, too."
"It's beautiful," I agree. The overskirt is of a deep red with a square neckline and mustard-yellow ribbed bell sleeves. Along the bodice, shoulders, and elbows, the material is slashed and allows the white underskirt to puff outward. The queen's rich brown hair pairs marvellously with the two colours.
One of the seamstresses, Henle, appears with another gown for me in her arms. "Would you like to try the next one, milady?"
"Yes, thank you." Leaving Susan and Lucy to ponder their own dresses, I follow her behind my dressing screen.
I've lost track of how many times I told her I'm not a noblewoman and don't need to be addressed as such. I'm assuming the fact that I'm with the Old Queens has lead her and the other seamstresses to believe I deserve the same treatment and respect. Whatever the case, Henle refuses to budge and I've decided to no longer nag her about it.
"I think you're going to like this one, milady." Henle helps me slip the skirt over my head, the high-quality fabrics and materials far less forgiving than what I'm used to. I'm definitely hesitant seeing the golden colour of the skirt, but at this point, I have neither a dress for Caspian's coronation or Aslan's ceremony the following day so I have to try everything the seamstresses brought in hopes of finding something.
"There we are..." Henle muses, adjusting the ruched, ivory silk wrapped across my chest. "Oh, it already looks lovely, milady," she gushes, beginning to tighten the gown's lacing.
There's a loud knock on the door of Susan's quarters, which is odd considering the guards outside know the three of us are in the middle of a dress fitting.
I can hear the girls murmuring their own confusion before Susan shouts, "Come in!" and the doors swing open.
