She laughs, setting his shirt aside and letting herself be drawn against him. Her face turns up, and she presses another kiss to his jaw. "What a fine prince I have bought," she murmurs, tracing one hand down the curve of his clavicle, over his chest, and looks at him with sly amusement. "I pray he thinks as well of the bargain."
From her tone, she doesn't particularly doubt it. Yes, there is still lingering doubt about her scars, about the marks of the battle that broke them both - but she knows she is fair, and she knows that he loves her. No woman, she thinks, could look at the light in his eyes and the smile on his lips and doubt that he is happy with his bride. No woman could feel the lightness of her own heart and doubt that their joy in each other is well-founded.
Emboldened, she reaches up to loosen her own laces, meeting his eyes all the while. The gown she wears is heavy and elaborate, as befits a King's sister on her wedding day; when she lets it fall around her ankles and stands there in her fine, clinging shift, it is as if she has shed a too-tight skin. She feels she can breathe easier, even as her eyes scan his face to see his reaction - to the toned lines of her body, slender but not soft; to the press of her breasts against the thin fabric; and most of all, to the ugly knot of scar tissue that runs from below her elbow almost to her shoulder, fading now but still prominent.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2018-05-06 11:43 am (UTC)From her tone, she doesn't particularly doubt it. Yes, there is still lingering doubt about her scars, about the marks of the battle that broke them both - but she knows she is fair, and she knows that he loves her. No woman, she thinks, could look at the light in his eyes and the smile on his lips and doubt that he is happy with his bride. No woman could feel the lightness of her own heart and doubt that their joy in each other is well-founded.
Emboldened, she reaches up to loosen her own laces, meeting his eyes all the while. The gown she wears is heavy and elaborate, as befits a King's sister on her wedding day; when she lets it fall around her ankles and stands there in her fine, clinging shift, it is as if she has shed a too-tight skin. She feels she can breathe easier, even as her eyes scan his face to see his reaction - to the toned lines of her body, slender but not soft; to the press of her breasts against the thin fabric; and most of all, to the ugly knot of scar tissue that runs from below her elbow almost to her shoulder, fading now but still prominent.