Snippet #1806708

Belladonna
I sighed and glared at my mother again, who just smiled innocently at me.
"It is absolutely necessary? There is no possible way out of this?" I asked for maybe the seven hundredth time during this carriage ride, and the million and fourth time since they told me that I had to go marry His Royal Pain, the Annoyingness Valentine Roman Lossane.
My mother sighed and carefully pulled some of my pale hair away, the color, like always, somewhere between a light lavender and lilac. "Bell, darling... you know that the only to get out of this would be to have the war continue on. Would you want Sunny or Alec to suffer the same fate as Quince?"
My eyes blurred with sudden tears. I impatiently shook them away. "And why does he have to be the one who murdered Quince?"
My older brother and I had shared a special bond, deeper than that even of the twins. Sometimes, it was rumored by the people that Quince and I were halves of the same person. I certainly felt that it was true enough. When Quince died... for days I'd shut myself in my room, refusing to see anyone, eat anything, drink anything. Finally, my parents had had the door torn down. By that point, I had given up.
My parents forced me to go out again. It took a long time to return to someone like who I used to be. I had been entirely driven by revenge and now I had to be put together with him, stay with him for all my life?
My mother sighed again, and quietly murmured. "Fate can be incredibly cruel sometimes. But at least think. You are the hope of the entire kingdom."
I growled. "I don't see why! Can I at least change into other clothes, and go riding?"
I was wearing a gown, a short one, and had flowers as ornaments (OOC: The gown she wears in the picture for her profile).
My mother laughed at me. "We spent so long just to get you fixed up, sweetie. I'm afraid not." I scowled, and the rest of the ride passed in a miserable silence.
I was sketching, and as always, my thoughts turned to Quince. I drew his face, again, with his glimmering, intelligent eyes, and ready smile, and serene face. His ridiculously long hair falling over one of his eyes. That was where the rumor had started. We were trying to meet each other halfway- Quince by wearing his hair long and wearing flowing clothes was somewhat girly and I, with my breeches, shirts, and attitude, was somewhat boyish. I don't know if it was true, though. I just knew that we had been close, and the bond had been broken by someone who wasn't one of us, and now it could never be repaired.
I looked out, and saw that we had passed through the gate. I waited impatiently, and finally burst out of the carriage like the wild person I was. "I'm free!" I cried joyfully, my sketchbook tightly held in one hand.
My mother laughed again. "Bell, I sincerely hope you never grow up right now."