𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 - 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎

January 1815, Halland, Sweden

Florence wasn't fragile. She didn't break and she wouldn't. She stared into a room, the walls were a pastel pink colour, and a dollhouse gathering dust stood in the centre of the room, dolls discarded on the floor. Ulrika had been too young to decipher the difference of different tastes, her room had been taken over by their father - he had insisted on everything he thought efficient for a young lady. She scoffed to herself, shame her sister couldn't appreciate it.

She sought her reflection in a glazed window, her eyes were tired, dark circles defined them almost matching the dark silk she wore. A smile was attempted but it looked too foreign on her face, she hadn't realized how sick she had made herself the year prior.

It wasn't exactly her fault, more of her parents trying to force a marriage on her that made her so sick. The sadness was too heavy for her, she stopped doing things she enjoyed, the sun effectively stopped shining on their manor as she was bed ridden, she haunted the hallways as a living corpse, she didn't want to live especially that a husband was waiting for her and then her future would be sealed.

Fatigue reformed her body, she was skinnier than before, according to her fiance the struggles he had forced her to endure had made her uglier, and he couldn't do that - couldn't marry an ugly woman, insisting on how she would ruin him, and the nasty gossipers would drown him in absurdities and dishonesty.

Florence had been shocked, but overall she retamed her natural glow, she beamed with glee at everyone, she thanked her fit for her loss of a husband.

She was now twenty two, her parents flew about her in a frenzy, they were still too overbearing but gentle, allowing their porcelain daughter enough space to break again. Her shoulders had now rounded again, they weren't heavy with sorrow like they had been in her 'tragedy' of an unforgiving disaster.

She had been donned in black silk since she had been woken, she had charcoal lace gloves on and apart from that she wasn't overally stressed the whole woeful festivities would be over soon enough, everyone in her family would return back to their uneventful, unaccomplished and repetitious lives and routines. Her mother would retreat further into her self imposing cave of depression, her father would turn back to swallowing brandys, drowning his organs just enough to forget any invading anxieties, Viktoria would never be home and if she was a hanging gloomy cloud would loom over the family and well, Gustaf he would remain dead. It was his funeral after all.

"Flora!" A gruff voice yelled from downstairs, Florence sighed before taking in her appearance once more, she smiled once more, practicing for the part she had to play - 'the sad sister who was bedridden last year but is trying her best'. The circles under her eyes only slightly lessened as her lips fell into the curving line of a grin. She groaned before forcing her feet forward, her fingers played around with some loose fabric that was discarded in her room, it was a small piece and easy to hide.

The stairs were steep, and the heels of her shoes clinked on the bare stairs, she descended down them as elegantly as she could manage, and she wished someone were behind her and could push her down, she hoped for an excuse to get out of this predicament, but sadly it never came.

Once she stepped foot at the bottom of the stairs, Viktoria was there and her sister was quick to throw her arms around her, Florence stumbled back, stood awkwardly before returning the embrace. She could hear muffled cries from her sister and hoped she would be free from her tightening grip before her dress had time to be sodden through, she didn't want a dress to stick to her throughout the whole ceremony.

"I miss him so much," Viktoria mumbled into her sister, her eyes still wrapped around her affectionately.

"I do too." Florence responded, it wasn't a lie, she missed her brother especially since his death was untimely and tragic.

They parted from their embrace and Viktoria flashed a sad smile before her mouth fell open like a fish and as if she had just suddenly remembered something.

"Mamma and Pappa have something to tell you," Her head falls after she stops speaking, she hangs it as if in regret, and worry immediately ruins Florence, dread flows up her body forming finally as bile in her throat.

Her parents appeared then, her mother cried soaking up her tears in a handkerchief, whilst her father had his arm wrapped around her protectively, he tried to soothe her but failed miserably. Her mother had an elegant hat on that twisted to hide her hair whilst a lace veil shielded her eyes and face. The dress was slimming and her shawl was draped over her shoulders aswell as her arms.

Her parents had walked a while before stopping infront of their daughters, their only surviving children, and her mother even attempted at ceasing her crying.

"Being as Gustaf has now passed, there's two things you girls need to sort out. Viktoria has already agreed for her part,"

Florence caught Victoria's gaze and she flushed an embarrassing pink and stated down sheepishly and used her shoes to scuff the floorboards. Florence face contorted as she bit her tongue to try and conceal her worries.

"Your sister is to marry," Her father continues, and Florence breaks out in a gigantic grin, and she immediately gripped her sister's hand.

"Viktoria, that's amazing!"

"Don't interrupt me girl," Her father's orders, Florence immediately drops her sister's hand and starts to pay keen attention to her father again.

"Her future husband is John Knutsson,"

Florence choked then.

"John? As in the one who said I was ugly as I was half way dying? That John?"

"Yes that John, he was keen to marry either one of you, he didn't mind which and your sister is excited about the match either way."

Florence had confided in Viktoria all the way through her betrothal, she had insulted the man too many times, and now the scent of betrayal flooded the air and laced the tip of her tongue, she wanted nothing more than to use a cane to smack Viktoria's nose in.

"And you will go to England, this Summer, your mother's friend will be there and you shall stay with her on your attempt to find a husband, me and your mother have both agreed an English husband may even you out a little."

Florence froze then, why would she leave Sweden, and even then willingly? Even worse, a husband, she doubted she would find someone with even the slightest interests as her. She was prone to staying indoors, she enjoyed art, even dabbled in some painting but never found the right angle to make it perfect at. And when all else failed she enjoyed spending time in a garden, learning about flowers, she had spent her entire childhood limited to only certain education. She was fluent in too many languages when all she wanted was to live for herself.

"Why am I to go to England? I know for a husband but why do I need one?"

"Well, since Gustaf-"

Her father was cut of by a wail from her mother, and she ran to leave the room, leaving in hysterics, some tears even splashing on the wooden floor.

"Since your brother has passed, I have no heir, and the doctors have strongly advised your mother not to go through with another labour, one of you must take the Duchy, if you are to be married before the end of the year, Florence you are the next Duchess of Halland whilst if your sister provides a son within the next year of her marriage it'll go to her. Which ever comes first."

Florence couldn't believe this. She would be a Duchess but would have to have a husband at her side, well atleast now if she were to fall in love she could twist it and pick him herself rather than having John forced on her, poor Viktoria.