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chapter two, don't disappoint.
FRANCESCA WAS IN THE WORST POSSIBLE SITUATION SHE COULD BE IN; dress shopping with her mother. The thought alone was scary, but the action? Oh, that was so much worse.
Currently, Viscountess Loring Heart and her youngest daughter were walking around the streets of France, searching for the perfect place to have the perfect dress to present Francesca to the Queen and the Prince.
Throughout the whole walk Francesca tried to reason with her mother, stating that there was no possible way that she could ever make it to the last ten. As Francesca was getting pinned in a dress, she stated that exact reasoning once more.
"Mother, please. I'm not going to be the perfect wife you and every other man in France want. I'm not going to sit and keep my mouth shut, I'm going to speak when I want to speak and not just when I'm spoken to. And, for the record, I don't even know if I want kids! So there's that!" Francesca ranted, her youthful face creasing with frustration.
"Francesca, you are 20 years old, you have about two more years before you are too old to be wed. If you do not marry now, you will be alone forever." Loring said, eyeing her daughter and the dress she had on. The dress was a dark red, it showed off the swell of her breasts and cinched her waist perfectly. To Francesca, this was the dress and she wanted nothing more than to buy it immediately. Loring, however, despised it.
"I don't care if I die alone, I will not be forced into a loveless marriage! If I find love, yes I will marry and possibly have children with him," or her, Francesca thought before continuing, "But I won't marry and be not loved and possibly abused. Do you not care for my happiness, mother?" Francesca ranted, her voice didn't waver even as she saw her mother become more and more frustrated.
"I just don't see how you would be considered for the Queen of France, and be married to the Prince while acting like this!"
"Probably because I am not going to be the Queen of France, nor will I be marrying the Prince! I won't even be considered for the last ten as far as I'm concerned." As Francesca said that, Loring stopped right behind her, stepping up onto the platform the younger girl was standing on.
"Now, you listen here Francesca Heart. You will behave like a lady, you will be presented to the Queen and Prince, and they will like you. Not only will they like you, you will be in the last ten, and you are to be crowned Queen and wed the Prince. If you fail any of these tasks you will no longer be welcome in my home or around my family, you will no longer be a Heart. You will be stuck on the streets, forced to sell yourself for money. for food. Did I make myself clear to you?" Loring said, her voice low and cold, her eyes piercing through Francesca's eyes through the mirror.
"Yes, mother," Francesca said softly, looking down to the floor. Francesca felt as if her whole world was breaking, not only was she being forced to peruse a marriage she did not want but if she didn't succeed she would be abandoned. What was she supposed to do now?
There was nothing to do, she would just have to suffer through whatever happened. Now, she had to hope the Prince had interest in her, or that her mother had a change of heart. That was unlikely.
"Now, take this dress off. Red makes you look hideous," Loring said, snapping her fingers at her daughter. Francesca smoothed out the dress, a frown on her a face; She quite liked the dress and the way it fit.
"No frowning, it causes wrinkles and wrinkles mean imperfection."
"Yeah, and that's why you have them."
"Excuse me?" Loring snapped, her eyes wide at her daughter's comment. Francesca just shook her head, mumbling an apology. Loring glared at her daughter, unzipping the back of her dress.
"You don't speak out of turn, nor in that way with me. Now, get undressed. We are going home."
"But I need a dress."
"I'll find one for you," Loring sneered, causing Francesca to grow uncomfortable. Undoubtedly, Loring would find a truly hideous dress and force the girl to wear it in front of the Queen and Prince to insure her failure.
"I can do it myself, mother," but before Francesca could finish her reasoning her mother interrupted her with a slap on the arm, and a warning glare.
Francesca didn't know what she'd do. All there was that she could do was hope that her mother chose a flattering dress, that the Prince picked her for the last ten and then that she would become Queen. Otherwise, she'd be stuck on the streets. And the streets were no place to live.
DELLA SPEAKS ! heyyy so hopefully we like this. I suck at writing long chapters but I'm trying I promise
