What Lies Behind The Throne Chapter 4/??
- Chapter Rating: T
- Summary: Roselyn learns more of Anora’s life before she arrived and demonstrates to Alistair the correct way to shoot a bow. Alistair imparts on her some sensitive truths his father would disapprove of.
- Chapter art by froschkuss
Cloudreach. One month until the wedding.
Roselyn stared at her reflection in the mirrors erected around her. She stood on a stool a foot off the ground so the hem of her dress could be tucked up and pinned to the proper length by the seamstresses who bustled around her.
This was the first time she was seeing herself in what would be her wedding dress. It was almost finished except for a few minor details and Roselyn was astounded by it. No one ever asked her opinion on what sort of dress she wanted to wear, so she dreaded every fitting. Each time she felt less and less like a bride and more like a beast lost in yards of tulle and lace.
But today she saw the work of the dressmakers and seamstresses and what it had been building up to. She realized that her worries were unfounded and that, minus the pins, the dress was beautiful. The base was a heavy ivory coloured dull satin with layers of chiffon under the skirt, making it flare out at Roselyn’s hips. It cut straight across her chest just below her collar bone, drawing attention to her slim shoulders and her neck. A layer of lace was sewn over the main dress and it sat across her shoulders with sleeves that ended at the elbow. Throughout the lace were delicate pearls and diamonds all individually sewn into place which caught the light making her gown practically shimmer when Roselyn moved. While it was a heavy gown to walk in, Roselyn felt like a giddy little girl looking at herself and almost didn’t want to take it off.
“What do you think?” Roselyn asked Anora, who was sitting on a seat close by reading.
She closed the pages around one of her fingers to keep her place and looked over Roselyn with an arched brow. “It’s lovely,” she remarked, her lips quirking. “Very pretty.”
“Do you think Alistair will like it?”
“That’s his Highness,” Eleanor interjected coming towards the mirrors and Roselyn armed with a pin cushion. “You know better than to call him by his first name.”