In your defense, Iris made you do it.

You and the 15-year-old girl were in the gardens playing an impromptu dress-up. Despite the harmless intent of girlish amusement during your break, obligations loomed large. Noctis's suit awaited ironing, Ignis's paperwork needed sorting, and a pile of laundry beckoned. Yet, here you stood, a reluctant mannequin, draped in a dress foreign to your usual attire—all thanks to Iris's impromptu styling session.

It wasn't a matter of disliking Iris; you simply had a job to fulfill. The white satin clung to your form, inadvertently highlighting your curves. A dress fitting for a charming date or leisurely outing, but wholly impractical within the castle's work-centric confines. Iris playfully insisted the dress was bought in error, conveniently aligning with your measurements."Oh, come on! It suits you perfectly! Maybe you should swap your uniform for dresses more often," Iris remarked, oblivious to your impending embarrassment. Before you could retort, the unexpected arrival of the prince disrupted the moment.

"Hey, Iris. Have you seen—woah," Noctis's voice trailed off as his gaze fell upon your transformed figure. A subtle blush tinted his cheeks, and his dark blue eyes widened in surprise.