Where Flowers Bloom

1. White Roses

"Dahlia please," Clara begged, looking up at her older sister, pulling on her sleeve, "There has to be another way, you don't want this."

Dahlia smiled at her, the gesture strained. Her attendant – Miss Evelyn pulled the corset strings as tight as they could go, drawing a curse out of her mouth.

She smacked her shoulder in reprimand "Language Dahlia!" she chided as the girl laughs.

"Sorry Evie, I'm not used to corsets, let alone ones as tight as these." Dahlia chuckled, Miss Evelyn rolled her eyes at her, but sorrow hid behind her expression.

Dahlia sighed, "Come on girls, we all knew this was coming, I would hate for my last day here to be spent in grieving." They all quieted at that remark.

Clara, the youngest of the four Beaumont children sat by the fireplace, her head leaning on the armrest of the red satin chair, loose waves of fawn-coloured hair falling down her back. Her normally wide green eyes were tired and half shut as she watched the embers burn out.

"Can't you stay for longer Dahlia? The marriage isn't for a while yet, I'm sure you could stay here for at least a few more weeks! Perhaps we could ask-" The young girl quieted as her other older sister shook her head.

"It's required," Isadora stated, reaching to grab an intricate hair piece sitting on the table beside her, "That the bride to be lives with the family for at least 2 months before the wedding takes place- hold still."

Isadora pinned up her sisters hair into the clip, some of her chestnut brown curls falling out and framing her face.

"You know just as well as the rest of us that father would never let us go against tradition, there's no point in asking." She sighed, moving away to look over her sisters outfit.

Her dress was cobalt blue, with a corset top and a skirt that reached the floor, adorned with jewels and elaborate silver patterning along the bodice that transformed into simpler designs along the bottom of the dress. Her hair was pinned up into a slightly messy bun, the hair piece elevating it so it was appropriate for such an occasion. The clip, like the dress, was embellished with gemstones, holding the family crest at the centre, surrounded by silver branches made to mimic the rivers that ran through and enclosed the kingdom of Azurith.

"You look beautiful," Isadora stated, satisfied with her work.

Dahlia hummed at her absentmindedly, focused on herself in the mirror. Her usually thin eyelashes were highlighted by the mascara she was wearing, drawing attention to her dark brown eyes. Her cheeks flushed with a light dusting of pink, standing out against her fair skin. Her lips were painted cherry red, the lipstick glossy over her chapped lips.

Miss Evelyn grabbed Dahlias hands, her thumbs gently rubbing her palms, as she looked into the girls eyes.

"You're so strong Dahlia, I hope you know just how proud I am of you." The older woman looked at her with a sincerity that nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Thank you Evie," Dahlia nodded warmly, holding back any tears for the sake of her sisters. Evie's gentle squeeze of her hand told her that she could tell.

There was a harsh knock at the door of the changing room, bringing them all out of the moment. The 3rd Beaumont child entered the room, surveying the situation.

"Ready to go?" Roland said, looking at Dahlia.

"Not yet!" Cried Clara, "I haven't even said goodbye!"

She ran to Dahlia and flung herself up into her arms. She jolted backwards a little, "Careful, I can barely breathe." She joked, running her fingers through the girls hair,