"Lady Hiiragi, would you prefer your wedding dress to be woven from chiffon or charmeuse? Or will crêpe do?"

"What kind of question is that? This is the High Commissioner's bride-to-be, she shan't wear anything as cheap as chiffon," sniffed Ogura Mio, the owner of the textile shop. She ran a white-knuckled hand through her scalp, stress lines creasing on her face as she compared two virtually identical fabrics. "Forgive her, Lady Hiiragi. She's new around here."

You were standing on a podium, dressed in little except your undergarments, as three seamstresses took your measurements. You obediently stood still while your mother and Ayaka sat in chairs at the side, quietly conversing. Surrounding you, along with the scent of fresh mimosa petals wafting in the air, were arguably the most expensive kimonos in all of Inazuma.

You'd barely been in here for half an hour, but piles of tester cloth were already ankle-deep scattered around your feet. In front of you was a grandiose mirror where you blinked at your reflection. Your mother had insisted you spared no expense and went all out with your attire. You could only get married once in your life.

After all, Ayato insisted on paying for everything.

"I say we start from scratch. Her evening gown should be made of mikado, hand-woven from only the most expensive silks in Liyue," the other seamstress said. "Secure a slot from the Feiyun Commerce Guild. Tell them to send textiles from their finest silk flowers."

"No, no," Ogura Mio said. "Half-stitches snag the fabric on such fine silk, it would be such a waste to not have her wear embroidery for the evening kimono."

The other seamstress agreed. "Definitely, such high viscosity silk ought to be worn in the ceremony gown."

"Ceremony gown?" Ayaka repeated curiously.

"There are three gowns, dear," your mother explained, scrutinizing the fabrics being held up to your arm. "One before the wedding, one for the ceremony, and one for the reception. It's tradition."

"Chisato thinks I should wear purple," you told your mother. "To symbolize my pride to Inazuma and Her Excellency."

"Chisato is not the best at making decisions." Your mother's nose wrinkled, like she couldn't stand the fact you were listening to her words of advice. "To think she passed the hand of the High Commissioner for the disgraced Kujou boy."

Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment. You saw Ayaka's head tilt in puzzlement, wondering what your mother meant. The last thing you needed was for your future sister-in-law to think that you were taking advantage of her brother.

You immediately lied, "His status among the Tri-Commission means nothing to me. Ayato asked for my hand because we are in love."

"Yes," your mother said fondly, "and that's why your marriage will be far superior to that of Chisato. Having you meet the Kamisato clan early on proves that you had a fine upbringing. It prevented you from falling in love with a disgraced family."

"Need I remind you," you said coldly, "that we are from a disgraced family as well?"

"Water under the bridge, my dear." Your mother dismissed your tone as a bride's paltry woe. "Now, are the measurements finished? You need to start picking out your closet for your honeymoon."

The anger in your head evaporated faster than it had taken to heat up. You repeated her last word once, twice, before your eyes quickly darted from your reflection's grimace to your mother's serious face.

"How many will you need? Two or three kimonos per day should be enough, how many days are you planning to be away? With how busy Lord Ayato is, it might be only a week or so."

"Oh." Your tone was blank, trying to come up with the right words to say. "Ayato and I haven't discussed it... yet. Actually, with how busy he is, it is really quite alright with me if we don't—"

"Nonsense, I'm sure we can arrange for somebody to take over while you're gone," Ayaka piped up. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and I'm certain everyone in the Yashiro Commission agrees that Ayato deserves the time off with his beloved."

"Ayaka—"

"She's quite right, dear," your mother said. "Perhaps you should take even more. For all you know, you both might get carried away with all the activities you might engage in."

"Mother!" you exclaimed, revolted.

"I am only speaking honest knowledge, dear," she said matter-of-factly. "This is the trend in marriages, goodness knows the youth of Inazuma these days tend to be rather radical."

Your face warmed in embarrassment and you hoped that your half-naked body wasn't obvious when you stiffened. A foreign chill ran down the brackets of your spine, and you were horrified with the way it was making you feel, especially since Ayato was on your mind.

"Ayaka is right here," you hissed at your mother.

"It's nothing, F/N, really," Ayaka interrupted too quickly, flipping open her shensu and fanning her face. Her face flushed the lightest shade of pink but remained naturally calm. "I think nothing ill of that topic, it's only true-to-life! Yours and Ayato's happiness are of utmost importance, especially on your honeymoon."

You were beginning to hate that word. Honeymoon. The cheesy compound of two sugary words sounded like a ridiculous song conjured up by some lowly peasant bard. And you certainly could not picture yourself spending a honeymoon with Ayato. You tried to imagine just the two of you on some faraway tropical island, expected to sip grandiloquent fruit juice and share the same bed, and a cold shiver ran through you. You were positive it was disgust.

"And your undergarments, love," Ogura Mio said hushedly, as she had you step into a red kimono embroidered with the image of the setting sun's rays. "You better find out what that fiancé of yours likes so we can tailor it immediately."

The implication was lost on your innocence. "I already have enough undergarments," you said. "I'm afraid there's no need to sew new ones."

Giggles erupted from the seamstresses as they began to compare lace against your thigh, then shushed each other. Your mother gave you a knowing look as Ayaka looked equally puzzled as you were.

"Oh, it's not for you, dear," Ogura Mio said. "It's for your husband."

A cold swipe of dread swept through your body. Hell no.

You couldn't even bring yourself to imagine sharing the same bedroom as Ayato, or Ayato picking off your clothes, much less connecting his body with yours. The idea of his skin, his warm hands, ghosting over your bare sides — it sent a wave of ill chills coursing through you and you ducked your head.

Ogura Mio noticed the goosebumps arising on your arms and smoothened the fabric on your shoulder. "Your Grace, your chastity is indeed an honorable virtue, especially for a woman of your status. But there really is no shame in discussing the luxuries of marriage and love."

You swallowed. Something inside you had been agitated and you could hardly tell whether it was a positive or negative reaction. "It's nothing like that," you said, defending yourself. "It's just... it's Kamisato Ayato."

The seamstresses giggled again. "Well of course," one said. "I can't blame you — he's so handsome and chivalrous!"

"Indeed," Ogura Mio began to loop some fabric around your waist as she pushed pins through the cinch by your waist to hold them together. "Since childhood, you have always been the perfect pair."

"We were close friends, is all," you said.

What no one knew, and what you kept to yourself, was that you despised the words 'close friends' just as much as you hated the word 'lovers.' Not enemies, barely even acquaintances. Just close friends. Something that could have been more. A what-if, an almost. Something that spelled deep regret.

The sharp point of a needle pricked your waist. You flinched but continued staying still as the fine thread wove through the soft silk of your future kimono dress. You looked at your askance reflection in the mirror, the expensive fabrics and taffeta threads pooling at your feet, and imagined the final product gleaming in the pale moonlight as you sealed your fate to Ayato forever.

"You need to be better at bluffing if you are to be part of the Yashiro Commission."

"Yes," you lied, suddenly finding it hard to breathe although the kimono wasn't even tight on your body. "Ayato and I are very happy indeed."

"You and I are what now?"

The seamstress had just finished smoothening your kimono sleeves when Ayato entered the room. His eyes raked over you dressed in an exquisite dress robe, tied together with a silk belt.

"Sir Kamisato," your mother stood and bowed as did the seamstresses. Ayaka smiled up at him while your arms fell to the side.

Ayato gave your mother a bow and a friendly smile. "Mrs. Hiiragi, so wonderful to see you. And you ," Ayato strode over to you, took your hand, and placed a light kiss on your knuckles. "My darling, you look divine."

You lightly tugged at the rope on his chest. You had to hand it to him, he was good at putting on a performance. "Thank you, dearest, but it's the clothes carrying me. Do you like it?"

Ayato's eyes went over you once again, a coy smile on his lips. He lifted a finger and drew a circular motion, telling you to twirl so he could see. With everyone watching, you obliged. The mesh and the silks waved as you spun to show off the luxurious embellishments decorating your body.

You felt like an expensive doll being dressed up and shown off. Then again, in a way, you were.

Ayato's eyes raked over you. "Stunning," he proclaimed.

It was difficult to tell whether he was being genuine or not.

"She'll be wearing this for the party tomorrow evening," Ogura explained.

"It'll be your first formal appearance together, so we expect that F/N ought to be the belle of the ball." Your mother looked pleased with Ayato's approval. "You do understand to be at your best behavior, right, F/N?"

Your facial muscles strained as you gave your mother a wide, hopefully-convincing smile. "I will do my best to keep my hands off Ayato, Mother."

"I have no doubt about it," said Ayato, smiling at you like you had just said an inside joke. Ogura grabbed the hand of her worker, sighing, but you on the other hand resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "If I may, I would like to borrow my fiancé for a minute."

As you flipped open your fan and covered your mouth with it, you heard your mother whispering as you left, "Oh, that rabbity maistel, always playing hard-to-get. You'd think she'd know not to be so come-hither when Lord Kamisato is already her fiancé, but she insists on being a flirt..."

"How lucky that my mother adores you," you said irately as soon as the door slid shut. "What's wrong? Don't like the color of my ribbon?"

"Heh, there you go again, jumping into conclusions." Ayato leaned against the wall. "I just had to tell you — that mob from last month? I had the Shuumatsuban investigate, and it doesn't look pretty."

"Oh, does it now? I personally thought the screams of how much of a dirty aristocrat I am were words of sheer admiration."

You lowered yourself into the chair next to him in an alcove, the walls muffling the sound of your mother speaking. You sat in silence for a while, the only noise being the faint brush of wind against leaves outside. Ayato seemed to be thinking about how to break some sort of news to you. You wondered, for a heart-dropping second, if he was to call off the engagement. It jolted you. You should be glad it would be over, but something inside you was persistent on holding on.

Of course, because it was for your family. Or at least, that is what you reaffirmed to yourself.

You glanced down at the part of your hand where he had placed his lips. The faintest smear of his inner mouth lingered and you shuddered at the fact it had the part of your skin tingling the way it did when you were younger. But it wasn't so bad like this.

That stupid word began to taunt you again: honeymoon, honeymoon, honeymoon.

You shook yourself out of your stupor. What was happening? You were getting side-tracked again. "You were going to say something important?"

"I'm being serious, F/N." Ayato lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows. "I'm trying to help you. Tomorrow evening, the dinner party — do us both a favor and be as loveable as possible."

"I can be loveable."

Ayato's eyes rolled. "You're about as loveable as a specter materializing from the dark sands of Serai."

"To you, maybe," you said, narrowing your eyes. "I will admit that I've got an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak unless I say something that will amaze the whole room to be handed down to posterity will all the éclat of a proverb."

"This is no striking resemblance of your own character," said Ayato. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend. You think it's anything similar."

"In puppet shows, the puppets do not move on their own accord, do they? Whether or not they can is irrelevant; everything is for show. In the end, all of the props are stored in the same box."

"Heh, getting philosophical, are we?" Ayato's lip curled. "Fine, have it your way. At least you're far from boring. Perhaps marriage will indeed be rather fulfilling."

"Yes," you said. "It must feel incredible when you're actually in love with the person."

Immediately, Ayato stiffened. It lasted only a second, but it was enough to make the mood drop. You wanted to regret your words. After all, even if you weren't really together, it must still hurt to hear that from somebody. A part of you wanted Ayato to feel, even if just an ounce, of what you had felt on the day he had unknowingly shattered your heart into a thousand irreparable pieces.

You didn't see why he would care. You were not in love with him, and although he might be fond of teasing you, from what you saw, he was most definitely not on the road to any tender affections.

"Right," he said after a beat passed. "I suppose it must. I wouldn't know."

"Neither would I," you said. You hadn't eaten a single bite, but your mouth tasted dirty and metallic like it knew you hated what was rolling off your tongue. "The institution of marriage for people of our stature is not designed around whether or not we like one another."

Handsome. Ayato. Unexpected but true, and it admittedly was not the first time you thought so.

"What are you wearing tomorrow?" you blurted. "Let's match."

In spite of himself, Ayato fought back an amused smile. You immediately regretted saying anything at all.

"My, my," he said, almost sing-song. "I never knew the Kanjou princen was secretly so excited to start coordinating all our stylistic fashion choices."

You scoffed and folded a leg over the other.

"You're denser than I thought, Lord Kamisato."

But your heart had started beating fast and you discreetly wiped your hand on your sleeve.

"It is merely a suggestion for aesthetic choices," you spoke with a prim tone, but Ayato could see right through you. A small smirk formed at the corner of his lips. "You say you want Inazuma to see we are in love? Well, if neither of us find joy in talking to people then our visual image can do all the talking."

Ayato chuckled, a sound that had you shifting in your seat.

"Not bad. Well, anything my fiancé wants, she can have. I'll have Thoma search for blue robes tonight. As for this thing—" His hand reached to touch the ribbon that was tied at the small back of your kimono, "—hm, I think we should have the Kamisato crest embroidered onto it too."

All you could feel were Ayato's fingers lightly trailing down your spine, lightly pulling the ribbon at your waist that held your clothes together, separated by only the fabric covering you. You shivered, and wondered if Ayato felt it through the dress.

You wondered if you were imagining the slight smirk on his mouth, the way he had leaned a little closer to inspect the back of your kimono. You wanted to wipe it off, push him away. But instead you found yourself leaning into his touch.

"Hm?"

"Yes," you got out. "That sounds... desirable."

"Desirable," he repeated. He chuckled. "Interesting choice of words, F/N."

"Well, what would you say?" you demanded defensively.

"Delightful. Delicate. Dexterous. And these are only the words that start with D. I can think of even more, some better than others."

"Oh, but so can I," you gritted. "Don't."

Ayato laughed, a genuine one. "You amuse me, F/N. Still, the Kamisato crest on your back will let everyone know where you belong — and why they ought to back off. Not a bad thought. I'm sure you will shine like a jewel tomorrow night. As long as you don't spout coals from your mouth, of course."

A huff escaped your lips. "Ha! Then I beg you to make the biggest spectacle of your robes tomorrow to blind everyone."

"Done."

At that moment, the door slid open. Ogura Mio's head popped out to see Ayato's arm at your back and your face near his. She bowed profusely.

"Lord Kamisato, Lady Hiiragi," she said. "Have you decided which gowns the Lady will be wearing already?"

Ayato glanced at her, then to you, then your dress, then back to your eyes. His fingers pressed into your waist as his thumb drew a lazy circle on your back. You drew in a breath, just the faintest gasp of surprise, and you didn't miss how Ayato suddenly smiled upon hearing you squirm in your expensive clothes.

You expected him to sneer, make a back-handedly offensive comment about the way you looked in what you wore. Instead, he did the opposite.

"She'll take everything."

Ayato leaned back, smiling his stupid self-assured smirk at your mild surprise.

Your fiancé was even more bold than you thought.