Characters: Alita, Falis
Summary: Falis is happy at having something different to wear. Eventually, so is Alita.
Pairings: slightly hinted Falis x Alita
Author's Note: Given all the times Falis's dress (once she ends up in Alita's body anyway) got ripped, torn and soaked in blood, and somehow she turned up five minutes later in a clean, intact dress, I have to think there's more than one of those things lying around. Also, I don't usually go for slash, but as with Soi Fong's (unrequited) thing for Yoruichi in Bleach, this was too obvious to go totally ignored.
Disclaimer: I don't own Murder Princess.
Falis, these days more likely to be known as Alita Forland, ruling Queen of the Kingdom of Forland, was, the people of Forland were beginning to discover, a somewhat intemperate soul even at the best of times. She was prone to displays of temper that never quite devolved into temper tantrums (Falis had far too much dignity for that), and when she was truly enraged it was well nigh impossible to talk her down.
Thankfully for those in the general vicinity, Falis was today only somewhat annoyed. That didn't stop Alita from being more than a little flustered by what it was Falis was annoyed over.
"Damn it," Falis muttered as Alita started lacing the corset over her midsection, a sharp wince distorting her face—even now she still didn't like having to wear the black corset, but as her maidservant pointed out, it was considered traditional, and even if Falis would have liked to spit in the face of Tradition (and knowing her, she probably did), she didn't want to get her cover blown either. "Milano, isn't there anything else I can wear?"
Startled, Alita looked up at her, frowning slightly. "What do you mean, your Highness?"
Shaking her head exasperatedly, Falis rolled her eyes and shot a look down at Alita through hooded eyes, somewhere between annoyance and warning. "Look. I keep ripping this dress up and getting blood on it, and somehow there's always a fresh one in the morning. There's gotta be more than one of these things." She tugged on the white silk skirt of her dress for emphasis.
Alita restrained a sigh—it wasn't Falis's fault; she didn't know—as she looked up at her mistress and friend. Falis was so distracted that she hadn't even told Alita not to call her 'Your Highness'. "Your Highness, this dress is the traditional gown worn by the eldest daughter of the Forland royal family for daily matters of state. Yes, there are several copies of the dress made, in case it was ever to be damaged." She smiled ruefully at Falis. "You seem to be going through them very quickly, your Highness."
Falis rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, I'll bet. And don't call me 'Your Highness'. I told you, 'Alita' when we're alone." They still couldn't risk referring to each other by their true names, not even in private; the walls had ears and eyes. "I guess my real question is: Is there anything here for me to where that's not this starched lint trap?"
Ah. So that was what she wanted.
Wincing, Alita answered her tentatively. "Your Highness—" she didn't care if Falis was uncomfortable with being called that; Alita at least would maintain propriety "—it is inappropriate—"
"I don't care if it's inappropriate!" Falis exploded. "I just want something different. Is there anything different or not?"
Looking at her, Alita was again brought to bear with the fact that, with Falis holding the reins, her body was almost completely unrecognizable; Alita was sure she'd never worn quite that expression of sullen impatience—at least not where anyone could see it.
Falis obviously would not be seeing sense any time soon, and what a Queen of Forland chose to wear from day to day, Alita supposed, didn't matter all that much as long as it was appropriate to her station and not too provocative. "There's a wardrobe behind that panel of wood over there," Alita conceded meekly, pointing out where Falis needed to go.
The former bounty hunter didn't need any more encouragement. Alita would have told her that it wasn't appropriate for a lady of noble birth to be running to a wardrobe, but she was sure Falis wouldn't hear her.
Alita followed Falis to the wardrobe, where she could see her thumbing throw a row of dresses on clothes hangers. "Finally," she heard her mutter, "something new." Spotting something she liked, Falis, with unusual care, took it off the hanger and again ran towards the four-panel folding screen in the corner of her voluminous bedchamber.
Personally, Alita found it amazing how quickly Falis could get her dress and corset off, considering how incredibly difficult it was to get both articles of clothing on. She quickly grabbed the haphazardly discarded dress and smoothed it out, praying the cloth wouldn't wrinkle.
"Hey, Milano, come look at this!" A small, manicured hand waved at her from above the folding screen.
When Alita laid eyes on her mistress, she didn't know what was making her more inclined to blush: the dress Falis was wearing, or the expression of almost girlish excitement that, frankly, she had never seen affixed there before.
"Look. It's easy to walk in, easy to get on, it doesn't have any ruffles, it doesn't drag the floor, and it's red." Falis seemed especially glad with the last part—apparently, she was fond of the color red; somehow, that made entirely too much sense to Alita. "Don't you think it brings out the color of my eyes?"
Alita just barely managed to choke out an audible response of "Yes". The dress also had a plunging neckline and fit more closely across the hips than any article of clothing had a right too; she couldn't help but be uncomfortably aware of that. Come to mention it, Alita couldn't remember having ever seen that dress before; God knew she would never have thought twice about wearing it. What on Earth was it doing in the wardrobe in the first place?
She bit back a groan. Gone entirely would be the already dying vision Forland had of a virginal, fairytale princess when Falis went out in public in that dress. She was going to have to spend years rebuilding her reputation when their souls were finally righted. If they were ever righted.
"Isn't it great?"
Falis's enthusiastic tone brought Alita back to reality. It was impossible not to melt a little at that expression of—for once—utterly guileless pleasure.
"Yes," Alita replied, feeling her cheeks go even pinker. "Yes, it is."
Jodo was going to have a heart attack when he saw the way Falis was dressed.
Neither of them were much inclined to care.