Some ladies came in to take off her wedding dress, which she was very happy about. She could finally breathe.
The ladies worked with quiet efficiency, their skilled hands removing the wedding dress and replacing it with the traditional red gown required for the dance. The fabric, a deep crimson. The gown was cut to flatter her figure, the bodice snug against her torso, the skirt flaring out in a dramatic sweep of red color.
As they draped the red veil over her head, it fell like a cascade of rubies around her delicate face, framing her features with a soft, mysterious allure. The veil was not just a piece of fabric; it was a symbol of the fire and life she was expected to bring into her new role as a duchess.
Elizabeth stood, taking a moment to feel the weight of the gown, the way it moved with her, as if it were a part of her. She practiced a few steps, the red fabric swirling around her ankles.
