May 15. Downtown Gotham. 09:37.
Diana
"Oh Diana, that is beautiful."
I glance over my shoulder, taking in the reflection of myself in the mirror, dressed in the sixth wedding dress I've tried on today. The lace that covers the top crawls up my neck, meeting the satin that lays just above my breasts, before it flows down the rest of my torso, clenching at the waist and finishing in a long train. My eyes shift and meet Lois', who sits, head tilted, examining all the angles of the dress on my body as I turn to meet the women seated behind me.
"It is beautiful," I say, agreeing with Lois' earlier claim, "but don't you think this is a bit much?" I lift the train, bunching up the excessive fabric into my hands, showing the girls the part of the dress I don't particularly like.
Ahead of me, my four bridesmaids are seated, squished together on a loveseat only made for two. Lois sits on the end, next to Donna, who has been spending the last few days with Bruce and I in the manor, wanting to be here since my mother was unable to come help me find a dress. Beside Donna sits my old college roommate, Shayera Hol. She has been in California for the last six years, working with the FBI, and although I've missed having a female friend to vent to, we've kept up with weekly video calls. She was one of the first people to know when Bruce and I started dating, and was overly excited when we got engaged. She had work in New York next week and was able to stop in Gotham for a few days, wanting to spend some time with me and Bruce before the wedding.
Beside Shayera sits Charlie, who whistles my way as she fills her champagne glass once more. "Oh you can always get that fixed," Charlie says, sipping from her glass. She watches as Shayera nods in agreement, her lips pursing as she stays deep in thought, before Charlie turns to Donna. "What about you, Donna," she asks. "What do you think?"
Donna shrugs and I can see she is not in love with the dress I wear. "It's nice," she says. "But this," she motions to her neck, pointing out the lace that adorns the neckline, "is too much."
I nod, pulling the lace from my neck and take a deep breath. "I agree." I take a seat on the chair across from the girls and drop my head in my hands, frustrated that it's been over two hours and I have still yet to find the dress I am going to wear for my wedding.
Lois stands from her spot on the love seat and walks around the room, pulling various dresses from the rack to look at them. "We'll find one, Diana," she says.
Donna joins Lois looking at all the dresses, trying to be as helpful as she can since she's only here for a few days. She feels guilty that she can't do more from Greece, but I appreciate the fact that she's traveled here more than she knows.
I watch the two of them continue their quest for the perfect dress, knowing nothing they pull will be it. There are dresses they flash my way that have the perfect neckline, and some that have details sewn in that make my heart flutter, but none scream out perfection.
"You know Bruce is going to find you beautiful in anything you wear." I glance up to see Shayera standing by my side, her half empty champagne glass in hand.
I offer her a smile. "I know," I say, "But that doesn't mean I don't want the perfect dress." And I mean it. I only hope it doesn't take another two hours to find it.
May 15. Wayne Manor. 22:17.
The manor is dark and quiet. Alfred has already retired for the night and Bruce is still at the office, trying to prepare for a board meeting he's supposed to have in the morning. My hand skims over the sheets of the bed, grasping at the empty space where Bruce should be laying. I want nothing more than to be in his arms tonight, his taunt muscles holding my body against his as he lets me complain about not finding the dress today.
I had spent over three hours trying on dress after dress, each with a charm of its own, but none that matched the idea that had been bouncing around in my head since the day Bruce proposed. As a child I hadn't put much thought into a wedding. After all, my mother had never married, and she was a strong woman, someone I admired. But the moment Bruce proposed, I found myself looking at more wedding magazines and online boards than I thought possible, wanting that perfect day to share our love with family and friends.
My hand squeezes the sheets once more, wondering if I should just stay awake until Bruce gets in. I know I will not be able to sleep until he is laying next to me, so I quickly pull the comforter off and roll out of the bed. Walking to the bedroom door, I grab the robe laying over the chair by the vanity and pull it on, before I walk out of the bedroom and down the hall.
The wooden floors creak under my weight but I continue on, knowing nothing I do will stop the old floorboards from announcing my presence. When I first moved into the manor, I was always worried my walking around at night would wake Bruce, or Alfred, but that fear quickly diminished when I realized Bruce had an even harder time sleeping than I did, and Alfred never heard me, or if he had he hadn't said anything.
There were some nights I would find myself exploring the manor, trying to learn of Waynes past. One night I had found myself in the library and, enticed by the mountains upon mountains of books, had occupied myself until morning, where I had cursed myself for at least not getting a small nap in before work.
But tonight I wasn't in need of exploration or a good book. No, tonight what I needed was a hot cup of tea, something to calm my nerves until Bruce rolled through that door, exhausted and ready to climb into the bed with me.
As I descend down the stairs I find myself staring at the photos along the wall. As a child, whenever I would visit the manor, Bruce never wanted to talk about the pictures, not wanting to remember those he had lost. But as time went on, he was more than willing to share the names of his family, always stopping to smile at the wide grins of his parents, forever immortalized by the photograph. It was his most treasured memory of the three, the night before their deaths, when Thomas had stayed home with Bruce and Martha, wanting to show Bruce how to master the game of monopoly.
Once I hop off the last step I waste no time in making my way to the kitchen, cautiously flipping on only one of the lights. It is all I need to allow me to maneuver around the room without bumping into anything. I quickly retrieve the kettle from beside the stove and fill it with water, placing it back onto the burner and turning the appliance on, taking a seat on one of the bar stools that line the breakfast bar.
To the right of me is a pad of paper and, knowing I have a few minutes before my water will be ready, I reach over and grab it, plucking a pen from the container by its side. Before I know what I am doing, my hand is sketching a few things on the paper, on autopilot as my mind thinks back to all the dresses I've seen. Countless hours of research on the types of necklines, and material, and trains, and I still have no idea what I am wanting in a dress. I had originally toyed with the idea of getting a custom dress, something that was specially tailored just for me, but our date was much too close, and I still was unsure of the details I wanted included. It was a hard way to convince someone to expedite a custom dress if you weren't even sure which direction to go. So that idea was quickly abandoned.
My hand continues to drag the pen along the paper as I absentmindedly stare at the blue ink. The light flickers on, startling me, and I drop the pad and paper, turning in the stool to see Alfred walking my way, his robe cinched tightly around his waist.
"You're up awfully late, Ms. Diana," he says. He walks to the stove, where the tea kettle has just begun to whistle loudly, shifting it from the hot burner to a cold one, before he turns and pulls two mugs out from a cupboard.
I shrug my shoulders, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease. This is his solace, his sanctuary, just as the library is mine. He knows this room like the back of his hand.
"I couldn't sleep," I confess. "Waiting for Bruce."
Alfred nods. He understands the attention Bruce's company and title needs from him, especially when they have business and partnerships with other companies. Recently Wayne Enterprises has been doing business with Queen Consolidated and I know Bruce is working his hardest on it in an effort to help out Ollie.
"Ah, Master Wayne," Alfred says, "he is much like his father. Working long into the night, trying his hardest to help all those that he can." I nod, watching as Alfred pours the boiling water into the two mugs that he has already placed tea bags in, before he places the kettle back onto the stove. He hands me the mug and I graciously accept it, knowing full well that Alfred has already added the chamomile that'll relax me enough until my fiance comes home.
"How was this afternoon?" he asks, switching the conversation to what I'd rather not talk about. I only let out a sad sigh, sipping the hot beverage, folding my legs under me as I sink into the stool. It is all the response Alfred needs. "Unable to find one," he asks, although his tone implies he already knows the answer.
I only shake my head and close my eyes. "It's not supposed to be this hard, Alfred."
Alfred takes a sip from his own mug and shrugs, twisting his lips into a pout as he ponders his next few words. "You'll find the perfect one, Ms. Diana," he says, "and then all this worry will be a figment of the past."
I suppose Alfred is right. Soon I'll find the perfect dress and there will have been no sense in having worried so much, but after the three hours this afternoon, part of me is still skeptical. I am unable to voice my skepticism, however, when the door to the kitchen swings open and Bruce walks in, shoulders slumped and tired.
He walks into the room, greeting both me and Alfred, stopping only to kiss the back of my head and whisper that he is heading straight to bed. I nod, letting him know I'll be up as soon as I'm done with my tea, and he leaves the room. For the next twenty minutes Alfred and I sit in silence, sipping our tea contently, happy to have the company of the other.
When I finish I rise from the stool and attempt to take my mug to the sink but Alfred intercepts me and takes the dirty mug, shooing me off to bed, telling me to get a good night's rest. I oblige, thanking him for everything he does, which he only responds with a nod and a bright smile, before I head out of the kitchen and upstairs to our bedroom, discarding my robe as I jump into Bruce's waiting arms.
July 16. Wayne Manor. 17:42.
My head still swirls with thoughts of uncertainty as I walk through the front doors of the manor, greeting Alfred with a nod as I step into the foyer. He takes notice of my puzzled face and raises an eyebrow, his eyes traveling to the elegant box in my hand, shutting the door behind me as he asks, "Is everything alright, Ms. Diana?"
I hesitate for a moment and give him a nod, still sure there is something I am missing. The box in my hand baffles me even more as I am unsure why I now own this item. Having received a call this morning from the dress shop saying they had an order for me, I was confused and thought they had made a mistake. I still had yet to find that perfect dress, and with two months already gone and wasted, I was feeling more and more helpless by the day. Ultimately Charlie had convinced me to take a long lunch to go to the shop and try and sort things out, promising that this was not another elaborate scheme Bruce was a part of, and that she'd oversee the packaging and shipment of items from our Tibet exhibit, which had finished two days prior and were now going to be sent to D.C. in an effort to widen our network.
On my lunch I went to the shop, trying to rattle my brain for any reason I should be there. Maybe they had found another dress that might suit me? Maybe they had gotten in touch with other designers who were more than happy to help me find something to my liking, all willing to help just to get their designs on the cover of every magazine once photos of the wedding were leaked, and while that sounded like a marvelous idea, today I did not have time to try on another dozen dresses.
This, however, had not been the case, as when I went there and told the younger lady at the front desk I had received a call from their sales manager, she disappeared behind a door marked "staff only", only to appear a few minutes later holding a delicately wrapped box. It is the same box I hold in my hand now, only less delicately wrapped, as I had ripped it open as soon as I was back in the solace of my own vehicle.
"I went back to the dress shop," I explain, "and they gave me this." I open the box and carefully pull out the piece of lace, lifting it high enough for Alfred to see.
"Why I do believe that is a veil," he says slyly.
I nod. Of course I know what it is, but why do I have it? "But why would they give me a veil when I have no dress." Alfred only smirks and I raise an eyebrow and gently place the lacy veil back into the box. "What are you hiding?" I ask, suspicious of the butler.
"Just follow me, Ms. Diana," he says. He playfully snatches the box out of my hand and walks up the stairs, turning once to glance over his shoulder and make sure I am following him, before he continues to lead me down the hall to the bedroom I share with Bruce.
He flashes me one more smirk and opens the door, moving aside so I can step into the room. My eyes focus on the item in front of me and I can't help but gasp, covering my mouth in shock as I stare at the mannequin of a torso placed in the middle of the room. Covering it is the most beautiful dress I've ever seen, however I can't help but feel as if I've seen this before. It's sleek, it's detailed, it's form fitting….it's mine.
"Alfred," I say, still in shock as I let my fingers gently graze the light fabric that makes up the top layer of the dress, the intricate designs woven in between the lace and tulle. The lace sleeves have the same designs woven in and the train that is attached is long enough to have the desired effect, but short enough to be practical. "Where did you get this?"
I turn to face Alfred and flash him a wide smile. He says nothing as he pulls the sketch I had absentmindedly done the night of my failed dress shopping with the girls. "I knew you had something beautiful here, Ms. Diana," he says, "I just wanted you to have your dream dress."
I am at a loss for words. This man has done more for me in the last six months than my own father has my entire life. Before he knows what is happening, my arms are wrapped around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. His body tenses at first but I soon feel him relax and wrap his own arms around my body, hugging me back just as tightly.
"Now, now," he says, "There's no time for tears." He pulls away from me and wipes my cheek with his thumb, where the evidence of my emotions has started to fall, and nods toward the dress. "Let's try it on, shall we?"
I nod, kicking my shoes off and onto the bedroom floor, watching as Alfred steps out of the room to give me privacy. Excited, I discard my work clothes into a neat pile on the floor, pushing them aside with my foot, before I untie the back of the dress. Carefully minding the fabric, I slip the dress off the mannequin, and pull it up and over my body, pulling my arms through the lace sleeves, a smile on my face as more and more pieces fit like perfection.
I turn to face the large mirror beside the bed while my hands run down my sides, smoothing the fabric that has bunched up around my torso, and I wonder how Alfred has made this dress fit like a glove. The dress hugs each of my curves like an old friend and I can't help but smirk when I see the neckline stop just above my bust, which leaves a beautiful visual, but still tastefully leaves some to the imagination. This is definitely the dress I am going to wear on my wedding day, and I can't thank Alfred enough for the amount of work he has put into this, never once stopping to think of how much stress it was going to cause him. Planning this wedding without my mother or sister around hasn't been the easiest, but Alfred has helped much more than I could have ever hoped for.
Taking one last turn I notice the corset in the back still needs tightening, and no matter how long I may think my arms to be, I will not be able to do it myself. "Alfred," I call over my shoulder, "can you help me tie up the back?"
The door slowly opens and Alfred steps in. He stops when he sees me, his eyes doing a once over of the back of the dress before his eyes meet mine through the mirror. I can see there is a smile on his face which means the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes are nothing more than happy tears.
Alfred has known Bruce all his life, and me most of mine. He was the one who would pick the two of us up from grade school when my mother was working late in the office, ensuring my mother he would make sure I completed all assignments before any play time was had. My mother trusted him, he was probably the only man my mother could actually trust, and because of that trust, I came to love him as part of my own family. That love only grew when Bruce and I started dating, where I could confide in this man things I was not able to voice to Bruce. To me, Alfred was more than a butler, more than a man who had taken Bruce in after his parents' deaths- he was family.
I turn to face the English man, my own smile etched on my face as I shake my head, letting him know he needed to save those tears for the actual wedding. "If you cry," I say, trying to clear my voice before it cracks, "then I cry."
Alfred chuckles, pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabs his eyes, before he takes a deep breath. Placing the handkerchief back into his pocket he says, "I wouldn't dare." He steps further into the room and closes the door. He knows Bruce isn't set to come home for another hour but he doesn't want to risk me being seen in the dress. "But you look absolutely radiant, Ms. Diana," he compliments.
I dip my head down, trying to avoid having him see the small blush that colors my cheek, before I shake my head. "It's the dress," I say, "It's beautiful."
He twists his finger, asking me to turn so he can access the corset, and I oblige. He's quick to work on the corset, pulling it taunt as it tightens around my waist, conforming to the shape of my body. When he is done, he takes a step back and admires his work, moves to the front of my body, and fiddles with the neckline. "I'm so glad this came out as well as it did," he says nonchalantly, as if he didn't just create the most beautiful wedding dress I've ever seen from scratch.
"How did you know my size," I ask, turning to look at the back of my dress, which is now completely done, showing just how complex this dress is.
Alfred only smirks. "You forget who helped Master Bruce buy your last birthday gift." I only nod, remembering the beautiful little black dress Bruce had given me for my birthday. He reaches over and plucks the veil from the box laying on the bed and gently places it on my head. "And now for the finishing touch," he says, carefully arranging the lace that compliments the lace in the dress Alfred has made.
I take one last look in the mirror, my heart hammering in my chest as I look at myself. Alfred was right, the veil was the finishing touch that tied up the entire look. I can't wait to wear this on the day Bruce and I marry. "This is the dress," I whisper. "This is the dress I'm going to wear to marry Bruce." Alfred wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a gentle squeeze glad to know he did well. "Thank you, Alfred. I don't know how I can repay you for this."
He only shakes his head and says, "Consider this a wedding gift." He takes one last look at the dress, content to know he has done well.
I turn and smile at Alfred one last time, throwing my arms around the man, silently thanking him for everything. This may have been unexpected, and it may have been more stressful to Alfred than he would like to admit, but this dress, this beautiful dress, is better than any dress I could get from a shop. And for that I am truly grateful. Only 5 more months to go.
I wanted to give Diana a moment with Alfred. Hope you all liked it.
