Thread: Crossdressing stops wars (Riven and Dimitrios)

Cass felt a good deal of pressure to keep the utter horror off of his face, at least until Dante had disappeared into his room. The moment the door had closed, Cass tried pulling in harsh gasps of air and the horrified look like he'd seen a corpse for the first time took over. For several moments he was stunned into standing where he was, struggling to regain some composure. What he needed was a conversation with his mother on avoiding the awful event that would follow the wedding, while at the same time he would have rather avoided said conversation in favor of find his own solution. Either way seemed complex when he was still fighting the corset and general sense of impending doom just to get a solid breath. Quickly enough, Cass found the ability to rush across the hall, shove the door to his room open and close it sharply behind him. Of course, the door was locked behind. Cassian pulled at the clothes constricting him, frantic to be rid of them and while he managed the dress on his own he couldn't quite reach the strings to the damned corset. He had to settle for waiting, rather impatiently, until a maid decided to stroll in. Then he could demand from her to be released from infuriating confines. Cass would not be seen for the remainder of the night. His mother would call it 'an over-excitement for the wedding.' When really it was Cassian refusing to degrade himself further for the sake of entertainment. And he had predicted correctly it was a fitful night of trying to sleep, having exhausted him for the following morning. His mother had been no consolation and his father, ever chagrined to have a more feminine male heir, rarely had anything to say to his son unless it concerned the business of the country. The following day, Cass had been thrust back into a dress despite protests and several maids having to fight with him over it. Eventually, his mother was called in to extinguish his temper and make him stand still long enough to have the white material fitted to his frame. Unlike the last horrendous bit of clothing he'd worn, the wedding dress was disgustingly old fashioned and traditional. It didn't simply fall but spanned out though thankfully only a few inches past his shoulders. His hair was forced, despite complaint, into some elaborate concoction that required flowers. The whole thing made him sick. It wasn't the pageantry, it was what would follow. The church was expansive. The lower classes milled about outside, waiting expectantly, and the nobility had found the indoors to suit them well. Cassian considered a range of options from stealing a horse to taking the priest as hostage in an escape, but for that people would suffer, so though he was shaking, he found himself moving cautiously down an aisle. His father held tightly to his arm, keeping him moving forward and upright. It was possible the grip would bruise the way he clutched his son but the dull ache of it was grounding. At least until the king pried himself away and left his son there, standing in front of Dante, who Cass was not eager to meet eyes with and seemed very content to avoid it. Dante's shoulder became a point of interest for no other reason than it was not his face and would not draw any suspicion from an audience that was somewhat removed.