The two women were silent, as they often were. Lunafreya sat at a small table, quietly sipping her tea across from an empty chair. Gentiana stood five paces away, long lashes resting softly against her pale cheeks. The raven-haired goddess rarely opened her eyes; it was as though she were perpetually entranced in some divine contemplation. Luna had much to say—if only she could find the words!—but lacked the nerve to interrupt Gentiana's meditations.
There was a sudden, urgent knock at her chamber door, and Luna started. She had expected visitors, yet had been so lost in her own thoughts she'd forgotten they were coming at all. The teacup nearly tumbled out of her hands, lukewarm tea spilling over her fingers as it tipped.
"I will answer the door," Gentiana said—clearly conscious, though a moment ago she might have been sleeping on her feet. The soft-spoken goddes floated across the floor to the chamber door like a ghost while Lunafreya dried her fingers on a linen napkin and rose reluctantly to her feet.
An entourage of excitedly chattering and giggling women filtered into the large boudoir. Celebrity fashion designer Vivienne Westwood was the first to enter, followed by two assistants carefully toting something wrapped in swathes of gauze. Bringing up the rear were three of Princess Lunafreya's own handmaidens. The atmosphere prior to their arrival had been one of certain melancholy, and now not even the twittering of eager ladies about to unveil the designer's latest creation could lift Lunafreya's spirits.
"We're here, we're here!" Madame Westwood sang. She wore a form-fitting violet gown with impossibly huge shoulders and a dragging fishtail train that obscured all but her face and hands, and a wide-brimmed hat bursting with peacock feathers over her flame-red buffont. "Gracious, my dear girl, look alive! This is a fitting, not a funeral." She laughed gaily, patting Lunafreya's cheeks with hands too cold and nails too long. "Come, come! Off with your clothes." She unpinned her own hat, then added, "Your petticoat, too, dear. There's enough volume in this dress to negate the need for such frivolity."
Luna's crystalline blue eyes flew to Gentiana, but the other woman was standing by the window, having already resumed her dream-wake state. Hesitantly, Lunafreya followed her handmaidens to the full-length trifold mirror in an open corner of the room, beginning to slide the long sleeves of her half-jacket down her slender arms. One of the girls stepped behind her to assist, carefully removing the garment from her petite shoulders and carrying it away as the princess reached for the back of her neck to unclasp the fastening of her gown. As it fell to her hips, another lady helped her step out of her skirt. Luna raised her arms while someone pulled her chemise up over her torso and someone else untied her petticoat. Then, finally, the princess stood dressed down to her nude-tone stockings, delicate lace corset, and teeny white panties. She glanced over a bare, lightly-freckled shoulder at the woman next to the window, but Gentiana's eyes were closed, her face turned away.
"Exquisite figure," Madame Westwood remarked, observing. She suddenly snapped her fingers. "Now: the dress."
The designer's two assistants scurried nearer with their gauze-wrapped bundle, and erected it just outside of the mirror's view. It stood on its own without support, and as the two women worked to quickly unravel its wrappings, the thing turned out to be a mannequin—and it was wearing Luna's intended wedding dress.
The princess found her gaze wandering again to the goddess on the other side of the room. As Oracle, Lunafreya alone had the power to understand and communicate with Gentiana. But most of the time she had no idea what the other woman was thinking, and when Gentiana spoke, her voice soft and low, her words were like riddles, sometimes difficult to untangle and interpret. If Luna could voice the question she desperately desired to ask, would she even be able to make sense of Gentiana's response?
"You don't seem all that impressed," Vivienne Westwood commented, though she didn't sound especially offended.
"Oh, no!" Luna said quickly, turning her attention back to the gown. "It—it's lovely, Ms. Westwood—truly!"
"Come now, dear, there's no need to flatter me," the designer gently rebuked. "A woman can't appreciate the true beauty of a dress until she's seen herself in it. And this dress will fit you like a glove; I'm sure of it, because I measured you myself!" She clapped her hands twice in rapid succession, and her assistants hurried to undress the mannequin, carefully carrying the gown and all its trappings over to Luna.
Lunafreya surrendered her body to Vivienne Westwood's whim and let herself become a doll for the other women to dress and groom. Endless folds of white satin rained down over her head and pooled around her long, slender legs. She gasped as the bodice of the gown was pulled tightly around her chest cavity and buttoned up in the back. An asymetrical surplice neckline framed her small breasts and showed off the subtle protrusion of her collarbones. Madame Westwood's assistants adjusted the innumerable layers of fabric that comprised the skirt of the dress until it floated all around her like a feathery, soft cloud. Finally, her upper extremities were fitted with snug opera gloves that were attached to bell sleeves at her trim biceps, giving her arms the illusion of an angel's wings.
Thinking they were finished at last, Luna started to turn toward the mirror to observe her reflection, and was surprised when suddenly there were hands in her hair, unclipping her barrettes, plucking out her bobby pins, and undoing her braids. Her scalp was usually rather sensitive, so she typically preferred to do her own hair; but the brush now combing through her honeyed strands was so tender and gentle, the touch was actually pleasant. It didn't hurt at all, not even when the fingers in her golden tresses began to sculpt them into an elaborate updo.
Luna was just beginning to admire herself in the mirror when the woman doing her hair stepped into view as she put the finishing touches on the princess's coiffure. Luna was stunned to see the woman rearranging her hair was Gentiana. She cried out in surprise, then bit her lower lip in embarrassment, feeling her cheeks tint with rose. Gentiana's eyes were open, glittering like emeralds as she tangled a lock of hair around two fingers, squeezing for just a moment before releasing it and letting the curl bounce free just behind Luna's ear.
"My dear!" Madame Westwood cheered as Gentiana stepped back, "You are a vision!"
Lunafreya was admittedly captivated by her own reflection. She looked like another person, and for the first time in her life she truly felt like a princess.
"What did I tell you?" Vivienne said with a smile. "Just look at that dazzling smile! Now you know it, and I know it: you love the dress!"
Luna laughed.
It took twice as long to undo the work that had been done to her. Luna tried to be patient while the women peeled off her gloves, unbuttoned her bodice, and lifted up her skirt again. Then Vivienne Westwood and her two assistants packed up the gown for safekeeping and left for the evening. Only one handmaiden stayed behind to help Luna ready herself for bed.
The maiden untied the laces at the back of Luna's corset and drew it away, baring the soft swells of the princess's curved bosom. Gentiana stood nearby at the foot of Lunafreya's bed, clinging to a bedpost with both arms and resting her head against it, her eyes closed as always and a secretive smile painted on her ruby lips.
Luna clasped her hands in front of herself, deliberately not hiding her body with her arms, yet she shivered from something other than the cool night air.
The handmaid reappeared with Luna's nightgown and helped her into it. "You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress, my lady," she praised. "You must be so excited! Just wait until Prince Noctis sees you!" The girl giggled, then reached for the princess's hair, deciding it was safe to touch after Gentiana had earlier. "Shall I brush your hair down out of this fancy updo, m'lady?" she began to ask, but Luna swatted her hand away.
"No!" the princess snapped, then quickly added, "No, thank you. I'll sleep with it like this."
The maid was taken aback and somewhat affronted. She curtsied stiffly. "Goodnight, then, Princess," she said coolly, and excused herself from the chamber.
They were alone now, Lunafreya and Gentiana. The goddess never slept, remaining at the princess's side as her constant companion, watching over her. Sometimes her presence was reassuring; sometimes it drove Luna mad. Right now she wasn't sure how to feel.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Lunafreya sat down at her vanity with a fresh bowl of water and a washcloth and began to wipe away her makeup for the day. Every few dabs or so, she glanced at the reflection of the other woman behind her, and felt herself growing more and more nervous.
Gentiana was facing her back, and would be looking straight at her, were her eyes open. Eventually Luna swallowed the lump in her throat and braced herself for a struggle as she dared to ask the goddess, "Were you watching me today? Getting dressed and undressed?" She gently wiped away the last traces of makeup and set the damp cloth aside. "Your eyes are often closed, so I can never tell."
Gentiana's smile never left her lips. "Do the gods need eyes to see?" she replied.
An evasive answer, as usual. And one that made her blush. Luna tried again. "I meant, did you see me? In my wedding gown? And…out of it?"
"Of course, Princess."
Luna felt her heart racing. Her hands were trembling, so she decided not to try and wipe away the pale pink polish on her fingernails for fear of Gentiana noticing. "What," she asked in a faintly trembling voice, "did you think?"
Gentiana lifted her head as her hands slid down the length of the bedpost. She walked over to Lunafreya, placing her cool hands on the girl's small shoulders in a touch so light it could barely be felt.
"I thought you could have worn a crown of purest diamond, and shone no brighter, Princess."
"But…what do you think about the wedding?" Luna felt her eyes brim with tears as she stared up at the reflection of the woman standing behind her. "Do you feel anything at all about my engagement?" she asked weakly.
"I rejoice with the rest of Eos," Gentiana answered calmly, "for when the Oracle of the Empire and the King of the Stone join in divine union, all the world and the heavens shall be, at last, at peace."
"You…want me to marry?" Luna blinked to clear the glitter from her lashes, causing rivulets of tears to trail down her cheeks.
Gentiana's hands slipped from the young woman's shoulders. "It is the will of Eos, and the will of the gods," she responded, folding her hands serenely in front of her. Gentiana turned and paced back to her post at the window, leaning against the wall as her chin turned toward the glass. "Whatever you feel for me, you should not stray from the path. It is your destiny."
Luna flew out of her seat and took two steps toward the goddess, then stopped. "You know?" she choked. She sniffed, trying to control her emotions. "But what do you feel, Gentiana? I'm asking you if you feel the same way about me that I do about you!"
"The Oracle would do well to remember that I am a messenger for the gods, and that I, myself, am a goddess. As such, my feelings are—" Gentiana broke off and hesitated for the span of a breath, leaving Lunafreya hanging anxiously. Then she turned and looked at the girl, opening her eyes. "I am powerful enough to let you go, and simply love you from afar. You must summon your strength to do the same."
It would have been painful to find her feelings were not returned, but to hear Gentiana say that she loved Luna, too, but that they could not be together, hurt even more.
With a tiny sob, the princess retreated to her bed alone. She lifted the covers and crawled beneath them, letting her head fall to rest on a quickly-dampening pillow as she cried herself to sleep.