Author's Note: Written for 'Lineage Studies' - Druella Rosier. Word count: 630. Not everyone is going to be so reluctant to be married into the Blacks, don't worry friends.
She stood in front of her mirror, arms crossed and a serious look powdered upon her cheeks. "I don't believe I want to get married," she murmured, staring at the ornate mirror in front of her. In the reflection her eyes widened, slightly, when the larger shape of her brother appeared.
"I can't see how that's my fault," he replied, arching a brow.
Mean. That was how she would describe her family; her brother, her sisters, her mother and father. Mean.
But the Rosier fortune wasn't built on being nice to people, it was built on making connections, collecting debts, perfecting curses… It was generally ruined, of course, by how many girls the family seemed to produce.
Four women, one man. That was her generation, that was her mark on the world. Four women that were supposed to be married off, four dowries that had to be paid, four girls that were going to come out to society and try to be as fine and dainty as any other witch in the room.
"It's not, Edmund," she said, craning her neck. The mirror showed a waif swathed in white, her veil drifting down her back and lifted up by magic. Tiny crystals were sewn into her robes, little flowers settled besides. "I just… I don't know what I want. I want to go home."
She looked at her brother, then, flipping away from the mirror. He was statuesque among them all, he was large and looming in a way that she wasn't, in a way that she could never be. He was stone-faced and angry, his heavy-lidded eyes just a shade darker than hers. "Nobody did ask what you wanted, Druella. But you are home. Your new home."
She supposed that she was doing them all a favor, getting married to a man who wasn't quite repulsive. She supposed that she was doing them all a favor by marrying someone without much complaint. She supposed, she supposed, she supposed.
Cygnus Black. She had bagged a Black, as they would say. She had won him over at a ball, he had submitted a request to meet through her parents, and nearly half of an hour later they had decided to make it an official engagement.
That was nearly a year ago, but she still wasn't quite sure that she loved him.
Druella wasn't quite sure that she loved anyone.
She liked herself. She tolerated her sisters. She hated her parents. She detested Edmund.
Hatred and love were on the same coin, but she hated Edmund.
She felt nothing for her husband-to-be (ten minutes and counting). She felt no deep, brewing emotion. If anything it was another boring day, but instead of going home and dropping into bed she was going to be wedded.
Druella knew that it was important, she knew that it was something she was going to need to focus on, more, but... She really didn't care. Her eyes were glazed over, she fidgeted as she looked at herself in the mirror, focusing on lightly painted lips and carefully coiffed hair.
Rough hands tightened on her upper arm- she hadn't even realized that he wasn't moving farther away. His grip tightened until Druella was sure that she was going to find bruises there, later, bruises she would have to explain to Cygnus. "Let go, Edmund."
"You will not embarrass this family, Druella," he hissed fingers pressing far too hard into her light skin. "You will marry Cygnus, you will have his sons, and you will do right by your name."
Of course she would marry Cygnus. She was a biddable daughter, a sweet sister.
But she wasn't having him any sons.