by D. R. Grady
This didn’t appear to daunt any of her companions. They tugged her forward, Felicity well up to Ari’s weight, and with the addition of Stefana who soon would be as well, the three of them propelled her into a room she’d never known existed.
Inside the space, racks and racks of gowns lined the four walls. Another ran down the middle of the spacious room.
Ari blinked in the wake of so many choices. Raene didn’t falter in her progress across the expanse. Every single color of nature abounded in this room. Raene mapped a course to the lightest colored selections at the far end. Here whites gave way to the palest of blues, greens, purples, and pinks.
Every shade a body could imagine hung here. But a gown that would reach the floor for Raene would look indecent on Ari. It might only fall to her knees, perhaps not even. And it certainly wouldn’t fit across her shoulders or her bust, both of which were far larger than Raene’s dainty figure.
Even Stefana’s height wouldn’t work for Ari. The gown’s hem still wouldn’t reach the floor. Perhaps it would end at Ari’s ankles? If they were lucky. Stefana’s shoulders weren’t as muscular as Ari’s own Aasguard enhanced ones. Her bosom also wasn’t as rounded as Ari’s. While she boasted the same slim hips and bottom of her sisters-in-law, her upper proportions were not the same.
“Raene, I’m sure we won’t…”
Raene didn’t take notice. Instead she scraped a step stool across the room and climbed aboard. This put her at a height that enabled her to stretch-to-reach a selection of gowns hanging there. The barest shades of blue and green hung in this section, and the next one over more resembled the color of Kellen’s amber eyes.
But Raene reached for a silvery-blue confection that reminded her of the gown Stefana had worn. Only when Raene heaved it off the rack, it looked nothing like Stefana’s dress. The only similarity was the color.
This one relied on the figure of the woman wearing the gown. Ari opened her mouth to protest, but her companions “helped” her to undress and don the gown. No one heeded her stuttered protests.
She soon had the confection over her head, compliments of the similar figured and heighted Felicity, and Stefana and Raene worked it down her person. They urged her to a mirrored wall around the corner in the room and Ari gasped.
“I’ve not seen myself in a gown in…” She couldn’t call to mind the last time she’d worn one.
“They’re utterly impractical, but for your wedding, they’re fun.” Felicity stated Ari’s feelings succinctly.
“I…” She couldn’t form a sentence. Instead she gazed at this gown, that somehow matched her eyes, and showcased the figure she had ignored over the years.
“You’re beautiful.” The awe in Stefana’s voice made her shoulders straighten.
“I think it’s the gown.” No one pointed out how scratchy her voice sounded.
Raene offered a ladylike snort. “You’re beautiful. This gown simply showcases that.” She smoothed the folds of the confection.
A form-fitting column of silk, the gown didn’t pretend not to skim over her curves and valleys. Her abundant breasts had always been an issue, and she’d taken to wrapping them securely so they wouldn’t impede her sword arm. This practice also kept them in place without bouncing while in hand-to-hand combat or any other task. She’d discovered a wonderful garment designed by a woman that did this same thing a century ago but did so with style.
Now the silk and lace device beneath her gown only enhanced her bosom. The gown highlighted her small waist and the gentle flare to her hips and bottom. She worked too hard at training to have anything other than a slim figure, but now, all that effort paid off in showing off her feminine form.
Something Ari had long ago forgotten she possessed.
Would Kellen enjoy seeing her this way? The hearty yes in the back of her mind made her anticipate the moment in which he caught sight of her. But this man she had committed her remaining years to also valued her fighting skills.
A man among men. Her heart beat steadily and happily at the thought of their impending nuptials.
“Do you believe this is acceptable for me to wear?” Still doubts undulated through her.
“Yes.”
“Absolutely.”
“This dress was made for you.”
Felicity, Stefana, and Raene all weighed in and since their opinions were unanimous, she disregarded her misgivings.
“Wearing this dress for a wedding is appropriate?” She turned to peer over her shoulder at her back and bottom in the gown.
“It was designed to be a wedding gown for a woman who is tall.” Raene tapped a crystal on the wall.
A woman arrived clutching a basket.
“Hennie, Ari is marrying today, and her gown requires a few adjustments.” Raene’s spiel had likely been unnecessary as the woman clucked upon seeing Ari and opened her basket to reveal threads, needles, and other sewing necessities.
“When is the wedding?” The woman spoke through the pins she’d placed in her mouth.
“An hour?” Raene looked to Ari for confirmation.
“I suppose. We do need to see to the activity at Swiftland’s border.” Ari stood as still as possible. Used to this, it didn’t strain her muscles.
The woman working on the hem must do this regularly, because it didn’t take her long to pin the gown. She also smoothed the gown at Ari’s waist, and placed a few pins there. “We need to let this out at the bosom and take it in at the waist.”
Hennie bobbed around her and soon assisted Ari in removing the gown. With the pins threaded throughout it, this might prove painful, but with all the women in the room, they accomplished the task with no pricks. She wouldn’t have cared if she’d been poked.
Ari donned her warrior’s garb again as Hennie disappeared with her gown. “Will she have it done in time?”
“Oh yes. She’s heading back to the sewing room where she and the other seamstresses will finish in the half hour.”
Ari didn’t quite believe that, but she pretended to. “What do we need to do now?” She had only attended a few weddings, and those only recently.
“We need to take care of your hair and toilette.” Stefana had no trouble directing her to a different suite all together. Ari had never seen this room either. But here, she soon set about to be pampered. First a woman massaged her muscles. Another then assisted her in bathing, something Ari felt she had done on her own, successfully, for centuries. Her training kept her protests to internal only.
Next, she was seated in front of a massive mirror and two additional women brushed her hair. They conversed with each other, above Ari’s head, and soon took hot rods to curl her already wavy hair.
Her companions were then sent away to dress for the wedding. She was left with women she had only just met, but Ari kept her sword close and trusted in her abilities.
The way of the Aasguard.
To their credit, the women assisting her offered her the respect they would any warrior. “Have all of you participated in the warrior training for women?”
Each woman offered an emphatic yes. “Wouldn’t miss if for all the curlers in Montequirst.” They bubbled over at their training, but Ari thought perhaps their favorite part of the entire enterprise was that they were able to wear trousers and sport a sword for that hour each day.
The exercise would feel good for these women who had never been encouraged to work their muscles. Women, in her opinion, didn’t have to be all soft and plump. They could be as muscular and toned as they wished. Kellen still found her attractive.
Kellen, who she planned to marry in less than twenty minutes. At that point, the women fussing over her hair gave way to Hennie who carried her gown. Now, they all worked to position her bridal garb so as not to muss her curls.
Once in place, the gown fitted even better than it had the first go round. Ari marveled at how it draped across her curves and called attention to the parts of her body she liked. But only skimmed the generous breasts that she had lament
ed for years.
The long sleeves would keep her warm enough, although she had no difficulty regulating her body temperature. The sleeves didn’t billow as Stefana’s had. These proved far more modest in terms of the amount of fabric used. She approved. That sort of sleeve had been lovely on Stefana, but Ari doubted she herself could do justice to them.
She approved of her gown. It worked well with her body and height.
The women helping her all stepped back and oohed and aahed over her.
One of them frowned. “Is this what training as a warrior does to a woman’s body?” She used both hands to encompass Ari’s person.
“Yes. I’ve spent centuries training. I rarely miss a training session. Ever.” Ari strapped on her sword. The gleaming length, showcased by her silvery-blue gown, completed her look.
“You’re wearing your sword?” One woman started to shake her head.
“An Aasguard never leaves her sword behind.” Ari didn’t growl. She didn’t need to.
The women all acquiesced to her, but Ari wouldn’t have argued. Her sword was the most important thing she wore. She took it into the shower with her. All Aasguards she knew did the same.
Her friends all entered the space, lovely in their own gowns.
She gaped at Felicity, who wore a maid of honor gown similar to the one she wore. “Felicity.” She couldn’t add more.
“Yes, I’m standing with you. Rykert, who has been at Swiftland, arrived a few minutes ago. He says we have an hour or two. And he’s standing with Kellen.”
“The attack on Chariovalda sent him here?”
Felicity’s grim nod told her all she needed to know. “Let’s get me married, then go quell this attack.” Her heart thumped with anticipation.
Vidar and Lajos resembled a living wall standing in front of him. This didn’t bother Kellen.
What they said, did. “Time to get you ready for your wedding.” They both clapped him on the back.
“I’m ready.” He gestured to himself.
“No, not even close.” Vidar’s lips twitched in a suspicious manner and the brothers took his arms and led him down the hallway and through several passages to arrive in a room near the entrance to the cavern where the dragons lived. His eyebrows drew together.
“I’m fine.”
This objection fell on deaf ears. Both Vidar and Lajos shook their heads. “Right now Ari is being fitted for a wedding gown. You need to match her in such finery.” Lajos said this solemnly, but Kellen didn’t believe that sentiment for a moment.
First off, he could hear the man’s raucous internal laughter, and Vidar’s smothered snickers weren’t helping the brothers’ cause. Kellen looked to the ceiling for help. None came. He’d have been more surprised if it had than that it didn’t.
Still, a man had principles. He glanced around the space when Vidar opened a sturdy door.
“This is where all males prepare for their nuptials.” Vidar gestured toward the rows and rows of court dress.
Kellen’s nose wrinkled. “I have no cause to wear such garb.” He shuddered at the display of neck cloths.
“First time I’d seen Vidar in years, and he wore one of those.” Lajos jabbed at the display.
“An enterprising warrior should be able to figure out how to use his neck cloth as a weapon.” Vidar rocked back on his heels. “Ari will expect you to dress up for your wedding.”
He scoffed. “She’s a warrior herself.”
Both men’s eyebrows rose. “Doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate your union. This is the only time you’ll be forced to wear this stuff.” Vidar cleared his throat. “We hope.” This he muttered.
Kellen faltered in the wake of their confidence. “Really? You’re not joking.”
The brothers shook their heads in unison. Most of their amusement had fled to leave commiseration in its wake. “None of us wants to wear this, but women admire their menfolk in such attire.”
“Especially for a wedding.” Lajos stated this with confidence. “Stefana and Raene even talked Aern into wearing a silly bowtie.”
“He loved it.” Vidar wiped the back of his neck. “After both women admired him in it.”
“They did?” For the first time in years, he was left speechless. His brain refused to offer him a solution to this crisis.
“Both of them thought him rather handsome. And Raene loved my wedding suit.” Vidar cleared his throat again. “When we have royal duties, we are required to dress appropriately. It seems to be expected.” He also sounded pained. “I have been able to alter the king’s dress code. Some.”
“Swiftland is recovering from utter desolation, so I haven’t had to adhere to quite as strict protocols and I’ve mostly been able to avoid this sort of dress, but I expect I shall have to start making concessions.” Lajos also took a swipe across his own nape.
“How? Where? Really?”
An older man swept into the room through a doorway from the other side of the room. “Ah, Your Majesty.” He bowed to Vidar, then Lajos, and after looking over Kellen, also to him.
Kellen was heartily thankful he wasn’t a king. Or looked to become one. This ceremonial stuff made him hot under the collar.
“Sims, Kellen the Mighty is planning to marry within the hour.” Vidar pointed to him.
The man turned briskly and inspected Kellen with more attention to detail. In seconds he produced what appeared to be a tape measure, the sort used by seamstresses. He began measuring Kellen with the joy of a man who enjoyed his job.
He barked out Kellen’s measurements to a harried looking young man who scribbled a bunch of numbers on his scroll. The man undertook the measuring for far longer than Kellen felt was necessary.
As soon as Kellen opened his mouth to tell the man to cease and desist, he scurried across the room and seized clothing items from the shelves. He handed them to the younger man who brought them across the room to Kellen.
Vidar and Lajos lolled against the wall containing the door into the castle and Kellen contemplated this escape. But the younger man shook out the garments he carried and thrust them at Kellen who reluctantly accepted them.
He stood there, certain he needed to flee out the window, if that proved closer. Except he didn’t see a window.
The two tailors urged him to enter a changing room, whatever that was, to try on the garments. Kellen resisted the urge to draw his sword and start lopping off heads.
He guessed Raene would frown upon that, but he thought Ari would understand, even if her brothers were among the heads he wished to see rolling across the carpet right this moment. Surely, they didn’t only engender these feelings within him.
With more reluctance than he’d ever encountered before, he donned the clothing the tailors had located. At least he thought the men were tailors. Sims and his associate entered the room to assist him.
A helpful thing because he had no idea how to tie the idiotic neck cloth. Vidar and Lajos had both admitted to being conned into wearing these by their brides.
“I’m sure my bride doesn’t care what I wear.” He entered the room again, feeling like an utter fool.
“Your bride might not care, but I can assure you she’ll still be impressed that you match her and that you made the effort for her.” Vidar spoke with more knowledge than he had, so he didn’t argue, but Kellen longed to.
He stopped in front of a massive mirror and took in himself.
The first thing he did was strap on his sword again.
“Sir, you cannot wear a sword with…” The fierce scowls of all three Aasguard warriors in the room quelled the man’s spiel.
Kellen completed the task and then adjusted the neck cloth. He didn’t look bad. But he didn’t look good either. Not that he was entirely cognizant of the definition of good, but he doubted this qualified.
“I have to wear this?” He sent a dubious frown toward the two hecklers who fortunately kept their guffaws mostly to themselves.
Then he straightened. “Wait, don’t you two ne
ed to wear this stuff today too?”
A frantic knock at the door sent Sims across the room. “Yes—”
The man on the other side burst through. “Lajos, we’ve got problems.”
Sims hopped out of the way of the Aasguard warrior who strode into the room, his hand on his sword hilt. Rykert the Bold had never looked so agitated. Not even when he fell into a barbed tree a few years back. That hadn’t swayed him much, and he’d cracked jokes about it to the amusement of the rest of them present that day.
“What’s wrong?” Lajos’ own hand reached for his sword hilt.
“Chariovalda looks to be under attack.”
Kellen reached up to rip off his neck cloth and return to his own clothes.
Vidar stayed him with a raised palm. He focused on Rykert. “Is the attack impending or happening right now?”
“It’s impending. Probably be epic by this evening.” Rykert’s fist eased on his sword hilt.
“Who is in charge of Swiftland right now?” Lajos didn’t sound happy.
“Do you remember Mkhai the Calm?”
They all relaxed. “Yes.”
“He arrived, wounded, but he spotted the evidence of an imminent attack and since he doesn’t have a dragon, sent me and Felix here.” Rykert finally took in Kellen’s attire. “Why are you wearing such clothing?”
“I’m getting married.”
Rykert’s jaw didn’t drop or anything, but he studied Kellen for a space of several breaths. “Right. Seems to be an epidemic. We must hurry.” He turned toward the door. “Who are you marrying? Another queen?”
“Ari the Noble.” Kellen decided to go with the funny suit he wore. He paused only long enough to request Sims saw to it that his and Ari’s warrior attire would end up in a room where they could quickly change after the ceremony.
Sims and his colleague waved him off and the four of them made short tracks to the cavern where the dragons resided. Fricassa whistled at Kellen the moment she caught sight of him. She galloped toward him and looked him over.
“You look like a man who is ready to be married.” Her approving tone made his shoulders relax.