The sun rose in the sky, a glowing orange orb amongst a sea of deep red and a tinge of blue. Which each passing minute it sailed higher and higher into the sky, oblivious to the heat it was creating for the habitants.
The community was beginning to awaken as dawn broke, but there was not a sound to be heard from the bedroom belonging to the son of the wealthy owner of Bolton Manor, Mr. Troy Bolton. By the time he cracked an eye open the sun was high in the sky and it was closer to tea time, then breakfast.
Troy sat up amongst his many quilts and silk sheets, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His unruly blond curls tumbled down in a tangled mess to his shoulders, giving him the image of a lunatic, which he knew people called him behind his back.
He noticed that the fire had not been lit and a fury built deep within him. He reached for the bell cord and tugged harshly on it a few times, waiting for one of his many servants to arrive at his bedside.
Shortly after there was a timid knock on the door and after Troy had grunted in acknowledgment a young, thin woman slipped into the bedroom.
"Good morning, Mr. Bolton, you rang?" She greeted, politely, offering a shy smile.
"You're late." Troy snapped, his face stone. The smile slipped from her lips and her expression informed Troy that she was confused.
"Late sir?" She repeated, wringing her hands anxiously.
"Yes, late." Troy finalized. He held up a heavy silver pocket-watch and gestured to it. "You took three minutes to get here and you know I do not like to wait. Move faster next time."
I really must hire some smarter servants, these ones are far too dumb. Troy thought, looking at his fingernails, as he was bored with the subject.
"Of course, sir, sorry sir. The young servant said quietly, smoothing down her spotless white apron that hung over her simple blue dress.
"I thought I told you that I wanted this fire lit when I awoke?" Troy boomed, ignoring her apology and smirked in satisfaction when the woman before him trembled with fear.
"I-I didn't think you would need it in the middle of the summer." She confessed.
"I don't care what you think!" Troy barked. "From now on I want this fire lit every day of the year, understood? No matter the temperature outdoors."
"Y-yes sir." She stammered, tears gathering in her eyes at his harsh tone.
"Now away with you and send someone up with my tea."
"Yes sir." The servant replied, bobbing a neat curtsy. "Good day sir."
Troy grunted and then got out of bed to look out the window. What he saw disgusted him.
Peasants were milling about the streets like they owned them and Troy sneered as a slender, frail looking woman fell to the ground, spilling her basket of fruit.
Troy laughed harshly.
Serves you right, scum. He thought with a twisted smile. Serves you right.
* * *
Another day had begun and dawn found the young woman standing at the pane less window, watching the sun rise. She was always up at dawn and never tired of watching the sin rise ever morning, day after day. To her it meant a brand new start to the world and the chance to be whoever you wished to be.
The sun rose higher and the little girl reached out a hand as if begging for the sun to take her with it, bring her into the sky, to get her out of this mess, this poverty that she lived in. She longed to soar through the air like a bird, her only worries about which way she was flying. But the sun ignored her and it continued its journey into the depths of the sky, leaving her rough, bleeding feet planted firmly on the unforgiving ground.
"Gabriella! Where are you?"
A commanding voice brought the woman's fantasies to a screeching halt. The girl spun about, her chestnut, wavy hair, fanning out behind her like a wall.
"Coming mama!" She cried out, trotting from their small hut to where her mother, and six sisters were standing.
"Sorry." She apologized, a tender blush creeping to her cheeks.
"Were you looking at the sun again?" One of her sisters, Lucille, asked. Gabriella looked at the ground, her blush spreading.
"Maybe." She murmured.
"Come on girls, to the village." Her mother instructed, taking the lead. After their mother it was the eldest: Margret, then, Maria, then, Gabriella, then, Sarah, then, Elizabeth, then, Lucille and lastly, little Victoria.
They paraded into the town, their rags hanging in odd shapes off their bodies, but not that they minded. The day was plenty warm even though it was only dawn. Once they had reached the village they were all sent off in their separate directions to do various chores that their mother had given them. As Gabriella wandered off to the fruit booth she remembered with frightening clarity when the family had almost lost their mother.
_______Flashback_______
The whole family stood in terrified silence as their mother lay on one of the straw cots in their ramshackle hut. Her breathing came out in short gasps and her skin was pale as well as cold. Two of they youngest boys were crying and all eleven children were frightened to go to sleep for fear that when they awoke their mother would be dead.
The children's father was knelt beside his wife, whispering words of encouragement but he also knew that she didn't have much of a chance of surviving the bout of pneumonia that she had come across. He had prayed ever single minute since the woman had gone pale, knowing that if he lost her he would be on his own with his eleven children.
He had told the children that their mother was very sick but not to worry because she would get better and it would all be over soon. He reminded them that when you love someone, it's never over. You move on, because you have to, but you bring that special person with you in your heart. He just hoped he wouldn't have to enforce that thought.
_______End Of Flashback_______
That had been a few months ago and her mother had made a full recovery, much to their relief. There was no doubt that the woman was a fighter.
Gabriella reached the fruit stand and carefully handed the merchant her money, trying to stop herself from drooling at the sight of the fresh pineapple and tomatoes. A basket full of fruit was handed to her and she began to pick her way through the crowds to where she was meeting her mother and sisters. Before she could even register what was happening, Gabriella was on the ground and their fruit was everywhere. A sob hitched in her throat and she quickly gathered everything that she could, her panic rising as her mother hurried to her. She winced as she imagined the scolding that she was going to get but instead of the loud words she felt two arms encircle her and pull her into a much-needed hug.
"Are you alright, Ella?" Her mother asked, patting down her snarl of hair. Gabriella sniffed and nodded, clean streaks on her face where a few tears had rolled down, cleaning the grime off.
"I'm sorry I spilt the fruit, mama." She apologized, her lower lip trembling. The older woman gently pressed her lips to her daughters forehead and hugged her again.
"We'll make do. Now let's go meet the others." Her mother said, helping her to stand.
The basket of fruit was not as full now but Gabriella carefully walked back to her other sisters and they went home to enjoy a meal of fruit, her mother making sure that Gabriella got the first pick for doing such a good job.
* * *
Everyone was accustomed to how life was, and everyone accepted everything as it was, thinking that was how it was supposed to be, but in a short time, one unlikely thing would happen, between a couple, from two completely different worlds.
AN: Okay so I'm back (finally) with a new story! Just in case anyone is confused, this story is taking place in the 1700's before the French Revolution. This actually was a History project that I had to do for school, but I got an awesome idea for a fanfic so I just edited it up and started plotting! So what do you think? Keep it? Let me know! Thanks so much for reading and any reviews would be greatly appreciated!!