I'll Protect You (Original Version)

Don't be late for dinner.

"Mom!" If you don't pick a dress soon, I am leaving!"

A glare was appointed my way before her inky blue eyes turned elsewhere. I resisted rolling my own eyeballs out of exhaustion. Just thirty more minutes; keep calm, Sparrow, the Voice in my ushered, urging me to keep my cool.

My mother came back with a retailer by her side She was tapping her white shoes, her gaze sweeping me up and down as I stood as straight as I could, the baby blue gown flaring out beneath me. This was all because of Jasper. Somehow, he had managed to divert my mother from the theme of her wedding and converted her mind to eccentric colors of the rainbow.

"Mother, my dress is supposed to be gold," I sighed wearily, running my fingers through my hair, which I had braided a while ago. Several strands fell out and fell messily around my face. "That's the theme of the wedding."

Suddenly, a light bulb popped over my mother's head (not literally, of course, even though that would've been perfectly awesome). She clapped her hands together eagerly, the engagement ring settled on her ring finger glittering like ice underneath the glow of the lights.

In Cimerian, she ordered instructions to the attendant, numbering the requirements she had listed on her fingers, which were quite a lot, actually. The woman walked off briskly, already calling out for help amongst her coworkers. My mother turned to me, seeming much more relaxed than she had been about ten minutes ago. See? Never listen to Jasper--always listen to Park.

Earlier, Jasper lied and said pastel colors made the darkness of my eyes stand out more, so somehow, I ended up in a poofy pastel blue gown that made me look like an explosion of berry bubble gum.

It was a while before they returned with a large bag. The retailers placed it carefully onto the chair besides the three-sided mirror and quickly retreated.

I hated dress shopping. I don't even get to pick out what I want. I'm technically coming along to be tailored after having to try on a gazillion other dresses before my mother finally decides on one that would make me the highlight of the evening. I didn't understand why; I'm not a bachelorette. I was already--

No. I refused to go down the string of thought, knowing very well that if I kept thinking about his blue eyes and chilvarous manner, my fist would shatter the glass in front of me into piercing shards.

I slipped out of the overly puffy dress and tried on the new one. The material felt like angel wings. Not that I've ever touched an angel's wings. But it was just like how I imagined it would--silky, soft, and hot with a pleasant heat, warming my bare skin almost immediately.

It was a cream shaded gown, but as the dress neared the ground, it split into layered hems upon layered hems, each layer a sweet white. The sweetheart bodice hugged my torso tightly, enough to make me gasp for air. Was this how women three hundred years ago dressed? Props to them, my friend. If I had to wear this dress for a minute, I was going to die due to lack of oxygen.

I turned around, knowing from the cold shock running up and down my spine was due to a zipper. My face paled as I realized that this dress wasn't even fully on--Holy crap, was this going to be even tighter?!

My arm, bent at the most awkward angle, stretched to grab hold of the tiny zipper, hidden beneath the dress somewhere. All the while, I was panting for air, praying to the stars that I wouldn't fall to the ground unconscious. My mother would laugh. No, I'm being serious--she'd tell me it was because I wasn't enough of a princess. A true ruler of Cimeria would be able to deal with a dress.

"Why the heck aren't you zipping up?" I hissed savagely, my tolerance for this dress dropping lower by the second.

"Sparrow?" a voice called out. I whirled around to see Logan carefully head into the room. "Your mother's wants me to ask you what's taking you so long?"