Once dinner finally concluded, a rather peckish Raiva went to her rooms to get the most decorative of her newly acquired hairpins before meeting Octavia. She decided to take the opportunity to scour her bedroom for any stashes of snacks she might have tucked away at one point or another, but to no avail.

No doubt Shelly would have found and put it away even if I had.

She left her rooms with the pin and her hand scratching her eyebrow in mild annoyance at the situation.

Raiva’s footsteps on the stairs were the only sound to be heard in the house. Victor had not returned after Gunther’s, and Griffin had clearly been held up by the incident at the academy. It was odd, how empty the house felt.

Arriving at the top of the stairs she turned to knock on the door.

“Octavia? May I enter?”

“Come on in,” the voice sounded muffled somehow front inside.

When she opened the door, Raiva was taken aback by the sight in front of her. Piles of red fabric and lace and stones were laid out on the large table in the middle of the room. A massive three part mirror stood adjacent to it.

Raiva walked over to the fabrics and caressed the shiny silk with her finger tips. The color was one of the most vivid reds she had ever seen.

“Crimson, huh?” she chuckled.

“Yes,” Octavia grinned as she pulled out various tools and cleared space for a proper fitting. “I decided to find out some of the rumors surrounding you after last time, and, well, I figured ’Crimson Widow’ was perfectly evocative.”

Raiva hadn’t been able to help but find the nickname uncomfortable, though hearing it from Octavia, it felt almost trivial to have been to bothered by such a silly name.

“And you’re planning to capitalize on what exactly? That people will clamor to gossip about the Crimson Widow, and that the chatter will inevitably land on my attire, which I have no doubt will be marvelous?”

Octavia shrugged.

“Somewhat. It’s also really one of the few ways to stand out as a designer and seamstress, since everyone will be doing excellent work anyway. And we both know that when it comes to the little wealthy ladies of Prievo, no stone will go unturned as they gossip and analyze and evaluate every little detail of your appearance. At this particular event however, the garments have a habit of being weighted quite heavily in the chatter following.”

She cocked her head to the side and began absentmindedly adjusting the tools in her little belt, as well as straightening the ones on the table.

“I’m also planning to attract the male portion with the Winter Ball. I suppose I should begin to convince Cassian before he finds a nonsensical reason to decline. Or better yet if I could convince Griffin. He’ll be a nobleman sooner rather than later anyhow, and his imposing figure would be perfect for showcasing something more daunting than current trends.”

I suppose that is true.

“How many ranks are there from captain to general?” Raiva asked.

That’s the rank where they elevate knights, right?

“Three, I think?” Octavia sounded uncertain for once. She began counting with her fingers while muttering military ranks to herself. “… captain, major, major general and general? Then head of generals, I believe.”

Raiva raised her eyebrows. “You seem knowledgeable about the military orders.”

“My parents were big on etiquette, polite conversation and general knowledge,” she replied simply and dismissively.

There was a hint of bitterness in her voice.

Silence fell for a moment while Raiva debated whether or not to ask, and Octavia in turn was waiting a while to see if she would.

“Well then!” Octavia clapped, then smiled at her with exaggerated politeness. “Dear model, if you would please undress for me?”

What?

Raiva stared in stunned silence as she processed what Octavia had just asked of her.

“I thought this was just measuring again?”

“Oh no, I already have your measurements from last time. But this this will be very form-fitting I need to ensure that every bit of the dress is fitted impeccably to you. I have a prototype for use today,” she said, pulling out an entire gown from a pile of fabrics next to her.

“If you would?”

Raiva nodded absentmindedly, as she became increasingly aware of her unwashedness and awkward movements as she began undoing her skirt buttons.

She was embarrassed to be doing this in front of Octavia, but to her relief, the seamstress was currently focused on writing something down in a little notebook on the table, while fondling a sample strip of eyelash lace.

“Too messy,” she muttered to herself.

Octavia’s gaze returned to Raiva. Immediately she noticed the flush on her face, the fumbling movements of the hands on the hooks and buttons, the averted eyes. She only just suppressed a smile.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Do you want some privacy?”

Raiva startled.

“I, uh, yes. I would, thank you.”

Octavia laid out the sample gown on the table in clear sight.

“Of course,” she nodded, seemingly unfazed. “I’ll leave this here, just try to step into it as well as you’re able. Call me when I can come back in?”

Raiva continued to avoid her eyes and simply nodded. She turned her back to Octavia before finally letting go of her now-undone skirt, letting it drop to the floor unceremoniously. The door to the dressing room shut gently.

I’m being far too self conscious about this. Once again.

She tried evicting the stiffness from her body by breathing deeply. Her hands went to work on removing the remainder of her garments, as fast as possible.

I don’t want to keep her waiting.

Raiva had not noticed Octavia’s own reddening cheeks at the accidental glance of her exposed thighs as she had let go of her skirt.

“Octavia? You can come in now,” Raiva called out gently, standing in front of the large mirror while clasping the glossy fabric of the gown against her body.

The back was sew-to-close and there were no sleeves on the gown, making it impossible to stay on by itself at present.

She heard the door open, and saw Octavia emerge, unbothered and gently smiling. There was a stiffness to her jaw however.

Is she upset? No, maybe annoyed?

A nervous flutter began in her chest.

Octavia was looking at the dress with a pondering expression.

“It’s a little too shimmery, isn’t it?”

Raiva looked down at the dress.

“Oh, it is quite shimmery, yes.”

“The color is stunning for you, but I think a more satin finish would be better. It would deepen the color just a tad to go better with your hair,” Octavia half spoke to her, half mumbled to herself.

She let her hand glide over the fabric at Raiva’s waist as if to confirm something about her theory.

“Yes,” her muttering went on, as Raiva did her best not to do a sharp intake of breath at the delicate touch. Her waist felt hot where Octavia was touching it.

In a much clearer voice, Octavia finally announced, “Alright then, on to the adjustments. I’ll copy it onto a different fabric, though we best have an additional fitting as soon as I’m done with it”

She gently turned Raiva by her waist to look directly into the mirror.

Lords, why do her hands feel so wonderfully hot?

Octavia began pinning the back of the dress, measuring and tugging at various places, while muttering to herself, taking the occasional note in her notebook.

At last, Raiva began relaxing.

I can make it through this fitting without making it weird.

That is, until Octavia began working on the side seams of the dress, particularly around the hips.

This part apparently required repeatedly running her hands over the sections, straightening and smoothing, pinning, then marking, then doing the same for immediately adjacent sections. The process felt like an eternity, as Raiva felt Octavia’s hands touching and caressing and holding her.

Before long, her entire body felt hot, and she could feel herself reddening once again.

Stop it stop it stop it.

Finally, Octavia finished and stood up, addressing Raiva directly.

“How does it feel?”

Her voice tore through the silence, and made Raiva jump a little. She was standing directly behind her, peeking out to the side.

Raiva had to refocus for a moment and let her eyes properly have a look at the garment.

It was form-fitting. Incredibly so, considering what was normally worn, even to extravagant events like the Gala. Usually the dresses went bigger or increasingly elaborate, whereas this, at its current stage, was very simple.

I have no doubt more will be added, but…

As of now, it was wildly risqué, too elegant to be inappropriate, yet still decidedly provocative. The sweetheart neckline was a little on the lower side, and especially noticeable due to the lack of sleeves and lace underlay. The skirt was entirely snug around her bottom, her hips and thighs, but relaxed in shape just around her knees, only marginally restricting her movement.

“It feels… well, tight,” she finally replied. “Not to the point of discomfort, but definitely more than anything I’ve ever worn.”

Like being restricted and held in place by playfully delicate silk restraints.

She blushed at she thought, though she obviously wasn’t about to say it out loud.

Octavia chuckled at her bluntness.

“Yes, I would expect so, honestly. This is just the base of course, I am planning on adding lace from here,” she moved her hand to gesture to Raiva’s neck. “All the way down to here,” she continued, and without ever actually touching her, moved the hand down her neck, across the shoulder, and along the arm, only stopping at the base of her fingers.

Raiva’s eyes were fixed upon it, and in the mirror it looked as though Octavia was, in fact, running her hand along her skin.

Goosebumps formed on the arm in question and she had to awkwardly swallow a lump in her throat.

Lords.

Octavia’s eyes had caught this. Frankly, it was hard to miss. She let herself smirk a little and decided this was as good a time as any to tease her.

Still standing behind her, half hidden by Raiva’s tall stature, she gently put her hands on her waist.

“And here, I was thinking of adding a train in matching fabric, to add a sense of grandeur and volume, to match your voluminous curls.”

Raiva breathed in as deeply as she reasonably could in the tight fabric.

“And,” she managed to get out without sounding as out of breath as she was. “Any thoughts of adding structure to bust?”

She pretended to be confident, and cocked her head to the side with a teasing smile.

Briefly Octavia’s eyebrows rose to hide behind her fringe.

She breathed in sharply and ran her hands up Raiva’s waist while fixing her gaze into meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Incidentally, yes.”

She delicately moved her hands to the front and traced an invisible line from next to her belly button with her fingers.

Her touch felt about as hot as a red hot iron, fresh out of the fire.

“Here,” she murmured in a lowered voice, bringing herself to brush against Raiva from the back, her breath hitting Raiva’s shoulder. She shuddered in response. “I was planning to add an invisible structured corset with boning running up.”

Her fingers moved slowly, steadily, up Raiva’s midriff, onto her ribs and stopped just underneath her breasts.

She was entranced at Octavia’s voice, confidence, her touch.

A scene flashed before her eyes, of her and a blonde young woman, naked in bed. The woman was laughing, while Raiva was awkwardly covering herself with a sheet and getting dressed while trying not to burst into tears.

No.

She hurriedly withdrew and awkwardly covered her chest with her arms. Turning to no longer look in the mirror, she began to pick up her own clothes again.

“What’s the hurry?” Octavia asked, still calm, as she stepped closer to her again, cornering Raiva against the table.

“I- I should get dressed and go-“

“Why?”

Raiva was avoiding her eyes and looked around in a mild panic, trying to think. Her face was flushed, her chest brimming with both arousal and embarrassment and fright.

“W- well the fitting is over, right?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to leave. Unless you want to. Do you?”

“No, but-“

“So don’t,” Octavia leaned closer to her, hovering her face just below hers, looking up at her with those, big, almond shaped hazel eyes.

“I don’t know how,” she blurted out, feeling her face go a shade deeper in its redness.

“Know what?”

Octavia’s breath hit her neck as she leaned in. Her lips touched her neck in a light, barely connecting kiss.

Raiva startled at the sensation, letting out a small gasp.

“Ah! I- How to, with a woman,” she whimpered, her voice small and confused.

Octavia put her hands around her head, pulling her gently down towards her.

“I’ll show you,” she hummed with an unconcerned smile, as she caressed her cheek with her thumb.

She stood on her toes to reach her lips with hers, and they connected in a soft, yearning kiss.