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Josiah sat on the bed, watching as she examined the clothes that were before her.

She was calm. There was no noticeable sign to show that just the other day she had been throwing up, to the point that he had wondered if he should ask the physician to come see her.

He continued to watch her.

She had chosen something. He could tell by the way an unconscious smile was on her face. The slight tilt of her head as she looked back to meet his eyes, her hand on top of the dress she had selected.

He gave a silent nod, not knowing what she had really picked. He had no idea what she and the seamstress had created. They had been holed up together for weeks in preparation for just these handful of days.

The first time he had seen her emerge in her shimmering violet dress- the one that she had worn in preparation to greet the King and his new Queen- Josiah had felt his heart drop in the realization that she would be seen by all. All eyes would be on her, and he wondered if she did such a thing on purpose- and if those eyes unconsciously went to something so painfully beautiful.

He had felt pride leading her down the steps to the carriage. He had seen the Winter Queen as she watched them- taking them in. In his mind, he had laughed. Laughed at the fools who had let her go. Laughed at the ones who had pushed aside something of such great value.

They had not even realized what they let escape.

Her eyes may be on you, Winter King, but I am the one who is holding her hand.

He watched in silence, his chin resting on his folded hands that were posited on his knees as she began to undress. She was comfortable around him now. She never really had been one for modesty.

Her back became exposed as the dress she had been wearing fell to the floor. She bent to pick it up, his breath hitching slightly as the curve to her spine aligned with the movement.

The light hit her skin, her arms showing the full richness of color and the muscles that were usually hidden in layers of silk and finery. Her neck arched, going down to examine her choice closer as the side of her breast showed itself to him.

She was holding the dress now, and he could not even register the color or what the design was as his eyes traveled down her legs, watching as they stepped into the material- watching as it slid up their length, grazing the skin and the sound that was made against it.

She turned fully to him then, half of her body in, while the dress hung loosely down the side, leaving her top exposed. She walked to the other side of the room, grabbing an object. He could not tell. His eyes were unable to leave her. Slowly, she pulled the rest of it up, her hands reaching to pull her long braided hair out, letting the stands show and fall down her back.

She sat beside him, and Josiah felt a whisper of a groan escape him when he realized the object she had grabbed was a thin material that she was now rolling up her legs. It was a black see through web that clung to her skin, darkness against darkness, creating beauty he could not look away from as her nails scraped against her own flesh, pulling up the stockings to mid thigh. What followed were boots of equal length, making Josiah lose all capability to breathe as she pulled the long length of the black shoes over her legs.

She looked up at him then, as if just realizing he was next to her.

"What do you think?" She asked.

Josiah ripped his eyes away from her legs, to meet her questioning gaze. She seemed to see the lost expression he wore. She smiled and asked again, clarifying, "my dress? Do you think this will be suitable for the wedding?"

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