Can We Love

Only If We Steal The Food

"You look stunning Lady (Y/N)." The maid helping me into my wedding gown gushed.

I spread my hands across the white fabric, bumpy from the blooming flower designs before turning smooth and silky against my fingertips.

The dress was exquisite, something my mother would have worn.

I suppose that's why she picked it out, today was the only day I could outshine her. 

Looking in the full-length mirror made me dizzy with nerves.

Today I was promising myself to someone I'd never met, all because my mother decreed it. 

Studying the dress I tried to imagine how different it would look if I actually wanted to wear it.

Would the delicate see-through sleeves with swirling flower stems still restrict my arms in a phantom grip?

Would the curving sweetheart cut and the pretty flowers that danced up my chest and biceps still make me feel like I’m hung bare to a cruel world?

Would the slimming top, cinched to my waist and cupping my breasts, feel so tight and suffocating?

Would the poofing princess skirt that flared out like a flower’s petals feel like a spider's web, immobilizing my body and spreading fear into my heart as I wait for the deadly spider to take my life? 

I dropped my bare shoulders as sorrow filled me.

It wasn't the gown I expected to be wearing on a day like this, but neither was this the wedding I thought I would have.

The off the shoulders dress was draped across my body perfectly, hugging just right.

My hair is wonderfully styled and decorated with little flowers and loose petals.

Shoes, covered by the long expense of the dress, were comfortable now but would no doubt hurt by the end of the night.

They were a pearl white with sleek heels, forcing me to stand in a way that flaunted my chest and backside.

My makeup was flawless, yet all I wanted to do was ruin it with tears. 

“It’s almost time My Lady.” A maid said and I nodded, still staring in the mirror.

Briefly, I wondered what my groom looked like.

But it didn’t matter, he would look the same as me.

Feigning a smile and biting back a ‘no’ when we say ‘I do.’

Sighing I followed the maid out of the dressing room.

Mother stood outside, decked out in a pale blue dress that had details rivaling my own.

Part of me was enraged that she attempted to stealthily outshine me.

It made me want to scream at her. 

‘If you want to outshine me so much then you can fucking marry him!’

But I buried the thought deep down, throwing it into the little box labeled ‘HATE.’

Mother’s actions took up most of the space, leaving very little room for others.

Like the Sandaime or Drake, for instance. 

“Wonderful, you truly look like a bride. But you seem to be forgetting something.” Mother’s tone turned sharp and she walked forward, raising a hand and gripping my chin.

“Don’t leave your smile in the room, girl. I won’t have you ruining this exchange.”

I ripped my chin from her fingers and smothered a glare.