The dawn did not come with the soft touch of morning. It came with the sound of a key turning in the lock and the clinical, cold light of the Palace flooding Asteria's room. She hadn't slept; she had spent the night cross-legged on the floor, debating her whole existence and the wrong choices she made.
'I should have risked escaping in that damn room and not gone to this nightmare...' and 'I'm now going to be a poster girl for some rich people? Damnation.'
Mistress Hestia marched in at first, her back as straight as an arrow. Behing her trailed four seamstresses, carrying rolls of silk and boxes of pins as if they were prepping for surgery.
"Get up," Hestia commanded, her eyes sweeping over the room and landing on the untouched, luxurious bed. "The master has seen fit to humiliate this household by parading a maid before the Monarch. If you are to be his 'partner', I will not have you looking like a stray dog in a ribbon."
Asteria stood, her muscles coiled. "I didn't ask for this, Hestia."
"And yet, here we are," the housekeeper snapped, gesturing for the seamstresses to surround her. "Hold your breath. This is going to be – fortunately – unpleasant for you.
'...Fortunately unpleasant? Seriously?'
The hours that followed were a different kind of torture than the mines she entered the nightmare in. It was a battle of pins and measurements. The women moved around her with practiced, silent disdain. They spoke about her as if she were a piece of furniture they were trying to refurbish into something presentable.
"The shoulders are too broad," one whispered, tugging at the fabric. "She has the frame of a common worker. No amount of silk can hide this dirty figure."
"And the hands," another sneered, clicking her tongue. "Look at the callouses! Lord Valerius must be truly desperate for a distraction if he's bringing this to the banquet. It's an insult for the guest list. He should've brought me instead."
Asteria gritted her teeth, her eyes tracking the movement of their needles. She could see where the fabric would tear if she moved too quickly or too forcefully. She wanted to snap at them, to show them what a "common worker" could do to their delicate throats, but she remembered Valerius' warning.
"The best place to hide a dagger is on the belt of the man everyone is watching."
Then, the main piece was brought in.
It was a gown of a glassy crimson-red. The fabric was woven from a rare, liquid-like glass silk that didn't just catch the light – it seemed to bleed into it; to glow. As they draped it over her, the colour was so deep it looked like fresh blood. It was structured with a high, stiff collar and sleeves tapered into points at her wrists, accented by accessories of a polished black glass that was similar to the blade she knew and loved. Obsidian. The accessories matched the dark depths of the Palace walls, in a literal and metaphoric sense.
When the last pin was set and the last jewel fastened, Hestia stepped back. Her judgemental expression didn't vanish immediately, but it faltered.
"Look at yourself," Hestia said, her voice unusually quiet.
Asteria turned to the mirror. The transformation was complete and a stark contrast to how she looked when she entered this body. The crimson dress hugged her figure with a predatory grace – or maybe that was just her – the deep red making her pale skin look like marble. The obsidian accessories – earrings that looked like frozen tears and a waist-cinch that mimicked the ribs of a beast – frames her as something both almost royal and dangerous. She looked didn't just look like a lady. She looked like a danger sign you couldn't resist but get close to.
When she walked out of her quarters, the heavy silk hissing against the tiles. The weight of the dress was significantly heavier than she would've liked but...
Valerius was waiting at the end of the hall. He was dressed in a suit of midnight blue and silver, his starlight-like hair brushed back with perfection. He looked every bit the Transcendent Lord, a master of the world's secrets, he actually was.
As Asteria approached, Valerius turned to deliver what she expected to be a witty, condescending remark.
Instead, he stopped dead.
His golden eyes widened, sweeping over the crimson silk and the way the obsidian highlighted the sharp, cold beauty of her face. His mouth opened slightly, then closed. For the first time since she had met him, the effortless mask of the "Cunning Master" cracked like glass. A faint, unmistakable tint of pink crept up his neck and settled in his cheeks.
He looked away quickly, clearing his throat and adjusting his cuffs with sudden, frantic interest.
"I... see Hestia has exceeded her budget," he managed to say, his voice stumbling over the syllables. "It is... acceptable... You look... satisfactory – no... Ineffable. (A/N: Ineffable means "Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words", he's a very flustered fella :D)
Asteria raised an eyebrow, a small, genuine smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. 'He's flustered. The most cunning man in the whole kingdom can't even look me in the eye. Adorable...'
"Just satisfactory, My Lord?" She asked, her voice dropping into a low, playful challenge. "And here I thought I was meant to be the most beautiful scandal in Aethelgard."
Valerius shot her a look that was half-annoyance and half-terror, still avoiding her gaze. "Do not let it go to your head. You are still a dagger. Daggers are meant to be sharp, not vain with an inflated ego."
He composed himself with a sharp intake of breath and stepped closer, extending his arm. It was a formal gesture, the invitation of the gentleman to his partner.
"The carriage is waiting," he said, his voice regaining its steady, melodic tone, though he still looked slightly to the left of her head. "And I believe I asked for this dance, did I not? Even if it is a dance upon a precipice."
Asteria looked at the offered arm. She didn't have a choice but to accept it – not in this nightmare, and not in this role. She reached out and linked her arm with his, her fingers resting against the cool silk of his sleeve. The contrast was striking: his starlight silver against her blood-red glass.
"I don't know how to dance, Valerius." she whispered, forgoing formalities, as they began to walk towards the grand exit.
"Then watch the others." He replied, his gaze finally meeting hers as they reached the massive, golden doors of the ballroom. The sound of a thousand glass chimes and the heavy, physical pressure of the Queen's presence began to leak through the doors.
Valerius leaned in, his breath cold against her ear.
"Are you ready, Asteria? Behind these doors lie absolute horrors and filth of a dying kingdom, all cloaked in diamonds and bright light. Try not to let the rot distract you."
The doors began to swing open, revealing the epitome of luxury and extravagance.