HERA
I stood on the fitting platform, arms lifted as the seamstresses pinned and adjusted the gown.
The fabric was exquisite, heavy but elegant, cascading around me like liquid light. Anisha hovered by the side, watching with wide, curious eyes.
The head seamstress, an older woman, gently adjusted my shoulders.
"Chin up, Lady Hera…” she respectfully instructed and I did just that. “Yes, just like that. A future queen should always carry herself with grace."
“Well, I try my best to be graceful.” I gave her a polite smile.
“You’re doing wonderfully already, My Lady.” she assured me, her tone warm.
Beside her, one of the young apprentices, barely past sixteen with that innocent curiosity, looked up at me with wide, admiring eyes.
"Usually, the husbands come in for fittings,” she
