The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 282: Dressing Up

Chapter 282: Dressing Up

I awoke to the gentle thrum of Fable’s heart, his breathing reverberating through my body. Opening my eyes, I blinked away the grogginess to find myself curled against his chest, head resting in the thick mane of silver about his neck. He met my gaze, proving he’d been awake for some time but only now stirring as I yawned and stretched. I scratched behind his horn, grateful for his tender consideration.

The morning air was cool and drafty, creeping across my skin like icy tendrils. Shivering, I rubbed my arms, massaging some warmth back into them. If today was anything like the last week, it would warm by the time the sun was overhead, but that information was hardly comforting in the unusual chill. I glanced longingly at Fable, but he quickly stood, giving me an expression I’d learned was the wolf equivalent of an eye-roll.

A bell tolled out in the village beyond, filling the air with a clear, resounding ring. Startled by the sound, I tilted my head, listening curiously as the note faded. As far as I knew, Westfall Village only had one bell, hanging in the old, dusty church on the edge of the village. It might have once been used for religious ceremonies or rituals, but now that the church had all but declared war on the beastkin, of which many in the town were, people had abandoned it. In the months I’d lived here, it had failed to even ring once.

With another yawn, I settled onto the bed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I’d stayed up far too late last night; what was I even–the bell rang again, and I sat bolt upright. The wedding! All other thoughts forgotten, I snatched my ring, riffling through it until I found what I was looking for.

Fable yawned, looking at me curiously, as I retrieved a beautiful white dress with red trim–the very same one I bought shopping with Tana. She’d mentioned it would be nice to have something to wear to formal events, but to think she’d been speaking of her wedding!

With a wave of my hand, I cast Tana’s mirror spell from the night before, doing a little twirl before the shimmering circle, admiring the dress. The delicate satin was soft against my skin, the off-shoulder cut resting just below the Sunpurge. Its design was relatively simple, a pure white knee-length dress with crimson trim and simple embroidery snaking around the hems. The blouse hugged my curves, revealing a hint of cleavage, but the long sleeves and skirt flared into loose, playful ruffles. It was nothing like the elaborate, expensive gowns worn by the nobility, but just wearing it sent a thrill through me.

I was startled by a sharp knock at the door, and quickly waved a hand through the mirror, dismissing it. Glancing at Fable, I found him lounging in front of the embers of the fire, appearing unconcerned, and let out a relieved sigh. I wasn’t certain why I expected danger, considering we were in the village, but as long as he was at ease, there would be no danger around.

Pulling the door open, I was greeted by Korra’s bright smile. "Xiviyah! I see you’re already up. Mind if I come in?"

She barely for me to step aside before gliding into the room. The brown-hair girl wore a gorgeous blue dress with a skirt layered like ocean waves. Splashes of embroidery and flowing silk snaked around her sleeves and bosom, her neckline cut low to expose a generous amount of ample chest. Her short brown hair was brushed to a shine, a blue rose affixed behind her ear.

Catching my admiration, she let out a giggle and winked, giving a little twirl. Her skirt rose in a shimmer of silk, flowing like water about her waist. "Like it?"

"It’s beautiful," I gasped, pressing a hand self-consciously to my chest. The sheer difference in quality and finery between our dresses was stark, and I felt rather plain and ordinary, a simple village girl before a princess. Just how much did her dress cost?

She came to a stop, letting her skirt rest about her ankles again. "It’s nothing too much, a simple gift I got in the Sorra Republic. Now Grace, on the other hand, knows how to dress. Apparently, she was a model or something in her old world. Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. You must have seen her at the banquet at the Divine Throne, right? I wish I could wear a dress like that. Every young man in the entire hall had their eye on her!"

"I’m sorry," I said quietly, my tail fidgeting, "I don’t remember."

She looked at me, a hint of sadness entering her gaze. "That’s alright. Really. Besides, I think you look beautiful too. There’s just one thing missing." She stabbed a finger at me, a predatorial smile spreading across her face. "Mind if I help with your hair?"

"M-my hair?" Trithe’s face flashed through my mind, followed quickly by the shadow of the High Inquisitor. A shudder ran through me, and I took a nervous step back, almost tripping over Fable’s tail.

Korra tilted her head, confused by my reaction. "It’s just a little...messy. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy, but at least let me comb it. There’s more tangles in it than a briar patch."

I reached up and touched my hair, running my fingers through the silky, crimson strands. As she claimed, it was tangled and matted. I routinely washed using magic, but my self-care rarely went further.

Reluctantly, I nodded, allowing Korra to pull me into a chair. Within seconds, I felt the sharp jerk of a comb and nearly cried out.

"Shoot, it’s worse than I thought. When was the last time you even brushed it?" she asked with a sigh.

"I...don’t have a comb," I admitted, gripping the hem of my skirt tightly.

She was silent for a moment, the only sound the whisper of the comb through my hair. After a few tugs, I felt, more than heard, her take a breath.

"You know, I was wondering something," she said hesitantly. "Why haven’t you ever cut or colored your hair? You always wore a cloak to hide your tail and horns, but hair like yours is so rare it’s almost unique. I searched high and low across the entire world for you and met only a handful of women with such beautiful, crimson hair, none of them demonkin. If you’d disguised it, I don’t even think I would have recognized you. I’m grateful you didn’t," she added quickly, "but if you had, it might have been another year before inquisitors caught your scent."

My grip tightened until my knuckles whitened, the swish of my tail painfully loud. Swallowing hard, my voice a trembling whisper, so soft Korra had leaned forward to hear me. "T-they cut your hair...in the warehouse. I...I couldn’t..."

I squeezed my eyes shut, a single tear tracing down my cheek. I’d never once spoken of the horrors of that hell, of the darkness that welcomed me into Enusia. Even in such a minor way, doing so now invited a shadow into my heart, tainting what little light the joy of last night brought. It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered cutting or hiding my hair, it was just...impossible.

"Oh, I see," she murmured, withholding her comb and running a comforting hand over my head, dancing across my horns. "I’m sorry, I didn’t know."

Her fingers sent a tingle through my body, the feeling a hundred times stronger than when I touched my horns myself. It was strangely soothing, placating even, and I sighed softly, feeling the tension leave my shoulders. After a few more tender strokes, she returned her attention to my hair, quickly dispelling the gentle peace that had fallen over me with a sharp tug.

"But even if that’s the case, it’s practically a crime to let such beautiful hair go to waste. Most girls would kill for hair like yours. It’s so soft and vibrant, naturally thick...so here’s the deal," she said firmly, "It needs to be brushed every day. If you don’t want to, then I will."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she frowned disapprovingly, and a particularly tough snarl turned my words into a yelp. Korra giggled, smoothing a lock back against my head, and continued, slowly brushing the tangles back, leaving my hair a shining sea of crimson waves. By the time she finished, I practically glowed, the rich lustrous color far brighter than it had been before.

"Good," she said, returning her comb to her spatial treasure. "Now, one final finishing touch."

I looked up as she reached onto the nightstand and picked up the wreath of flowers I left there the night before. A day had passed, but they remained fresh and unwilted. She slipped it under my horns before stepping back, admiring her handiwork. She stared at me critically, quiet for a long time, until I blushed and looked down at my lap.

"I-is it alright?"

"Perfect," she replied, giving me an approving nod. "Now, let’s get down there. It’s going to start soon."