This was going to be a part of my 100 themes, but I decided this needed separate attention. You can see why, right?
Once upon a time there was a gorgeous queen with riveting dirty blonde hair that fell right past her shoulder blades. She wore a pale blue dress that stopped short just above her ankles and a hefty little ribbon sash that hung around her arms.
She was married to a Duke named Augustus. They were soul mates, lovers if you please. Nothing could get past their love, it was truly passionate. When they had been married for at least four years, they decided to have a child; a daughter. She was a beautiful baby girl named Flora. Her eyes were as bright as the morning sun and her light brown hair was curled into a little spiral on her forehead; She would become the princess of the town the small family had lived in called St. Mystere.
The town was fairly quaint, and didn't have very many residents. It was absolutely in the utmost respect, posh. The cobblestone streets and buildings were enough to prove it. Despite the fact the few lived in the town, it was still as lively as ever. Besides the ever royal family, about ten other people lived in St. Mystere.
One day the Queen, Lady Violet, began to grow very sick. She was confined to her royal suite the most of her days, and Flora, being only five years-old, didn't quite understand what was going on. She didn't understand that Lady Violet was slowly withering away. All the poor dear knew was that her mother was very sick.
Everyday, the young girl would pick flowers from outside of the castle and bring them to her mother, in hopes that her sickness would go away. Lady Violet would lay a fragile hand on her daughter's shoulder and whisper a barely audible, "Thank you, my dear. Mother loves you forever and always. Don't you forget that, okay?" Flora would happily nod and then run away to go tell her father that he should also pick flowers for Lady Violet, too.
When Flora was six years-old, Lady Violet had passed away. Her fragile state hadn't gotten any better over the past four weeks, and her beautiful dirty blonde hair had started to thin out. She was so brittle and broken at just age 35; it was definitely a tragedy.
Augustus Reinhold was definitely broken with his wife's passing. He stayed in his room, not allowing anyone to enter, except for sweet little six year-old Flora, of course. He himself had been feeling quite sick, lately.
In fear of his daughter being alone in the harsh world at only age six, Augustus decided upon himself to contact a good friend of his, Bruno.
From there on would be the beginning of a new world for Flora Reinhold. And soon, at age fourteen, her adventures with a well known college professor and an apprentice would begin.
Luke set the paper away from his view, fidgeting to scatter a quick tear from his eye. "F-Flora...did you write this?" He hugged her tightly, feeling his eyes begin to sting.
Flora nodded solemnly in the embrace. This had been in her journal for over a year. She hadn't shown it to anyone; It was her own little thing that she wanted to keep secret.
"One thing strikes me as odd, though."
Huh? Flora certainly hadn't expected this.
"Well, Lady Dahlia wears a pink dress with a red sash thing... if I'm not mistaken. And her hair is up in a bun style." He spoke with a soft voice, with a tinge of concern. He released Flora and looked her straight in the eyes.
Flora smiled a little bit, sadness hidden behind her dark brown eyes, "My father didn't want to sadden me by making Lady Dahlia look exactly like my mother. She use to be absolutely gorgeous though, Luke...from what I can remember. She didn't always wear her hair down, but when she did...she truly did look like a queen. She was the fairest of them all." It took Flora all she could muster not to cry, but even then it didn't work. She covered her face with her hands. Her back was moving up and down slightly, as she was beginning to cry.
"F-Flora! Don't cry!" Luke embraced Flora once again and hugged her tighter then before.
"I-I'm sorry." Flora replied. She hiccuped a few times before she could actually speak. "She was so nice, Luke. I wish you could've met my real mother."
"Me too, Flora," Luke muffled into her shoulder, stroking the top of her head, "Me too."