All her life she'd been told she was pretty.
She realized, aged 8, that they were all wrong.
Gabrielle was ugly, but only she knew.
She was pretty, but Fleur was gorgeous.
She was cute, but Fleur was beautiful.
Gabrielle Delacour could be the loveliest girl in the entire world, but her sister would be the loveliest of the entire universe.
It's always been like that.
She spent three hours fixing her hair–
two hours applying her make-up–
one on choosing her outfit.
She always tried–Fleur never had to.
She woke up beautiful, while Gabrielle had to wake up six hours earlier to get the same effect.
She couldn't wear blue because it clashed with her eyes.
She couldn't wear yellow because it clashed with her hair.
Fleur could wear anything–anything at all.
Her mum always said that no man could resist her, even if she wore nothing but rags.
"What are you doing?"
Fleur ran into the room and tried to pry the scissors out of her little sister's hands. "Gabrielle, what are you doing?"
She kept snipping. "I don't want to be pretty, Fleur. I want to be different!"
"You are beautiful, Gabrielle! You 'ave been given a gift!" Fleur said desperately. She tugged at the scissors but her sister tightened her grip. "Gabrielle, stop it! Maman!"
Their mother appeared in the room shortly and gasped at the sight of the two sisters fighting. "Gabrielle! Zis is no way to treat your soeur! Act like a lady!"
"I don't want to be a lady! I want to be me!"
She loosened her grip on the silver scissors and ran out the room, golden curls falling from her head as she fled.
"Gabrielle."
Fleur walked over to her sister, who sat cross-legged on a rock in their garden. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were blotchy.
"I-I don't want to talk to you."
Fleur sat down beside her, her legs crossed like she's been told. She sighed and uncrossed them when she noticed Gabrielle watching her legs. She tried something rebellious and crossed them, too, even though it was hard to sit since the rock wasn't that big. Their knees collided and Gabrielle let out a small giggle. Fleur smiled faintly.
"Gabrielle, I 'ave talked to our mother and she is very upset with you." Gabrielle's smile faded.
"But," Fleur continued, "I 'ave made her see sense."
"What did you say?" Gabrielle asked quietly.
Fleur took Gabrielle's hands and looked into her sister's eyes. "I told her zat you are beautiful and such a beautiful girl should get a choice on who she wants to be, no?"
Gabrielle looked down. "I am not as beautiful as you, sister."
"Perhaps." Fleur smiled. "But you are much more intelligent and 'ilarious. You may not be ze best in looks–" she gestured to herself "–but zat is not so important. Everyone is beautiful in 'eir own way, don't you zink?"
Gabrielle bit her lip. "I guess."
"No," Fleur shook her head. "You know."
Gabrielle smiled and confirmed; "I know."
She cut her hair short, too, so she didn't feel so alone. Gabrielle didn't even care that Fleur still looked good in her short, jagged hair.
The sisters got along much better now, even though they never fought before. Gabrielle felt much happier.
Before she felt like they were competitors. That she ran with all her hardest while Fleur ran ahead, not even breaking a sweat.
Now they ran on different tracks.
All her life she'd been told she was pretty.
She realized, aged 14, that they were all wrong.
Gabrielle was beautiful–she always has been–but only she and her sister knew.
And maybe that was enough.
Written for The Duct Tape Competition - Bows
