II.

The rooster crowed on the first morning of mourning. Victoria sat up in bed and stretched as a gloomy feeling washed over her. And it wasn't just for the lack of sunlight, either. Her head felt too heavy to stay sitting up, so she flopped back down on the mattress. She was in mourning. Not for Barkis, of course, but for being away from Victor. So she decided to live up to her expectations and feel miserable.

She realized the more she lay in her bed; the more the sad thoughts swirled around in her head. Victor had been the only thing she had looked forward to seeing every day. Now she couldn't even do that. The image of her mother pushed its way into her mind, and she felt like smacking it.

There was a gentle knock on the door. "Miss Victoria? Your breakfast." The door opened and in stepped the elderly maid carrying a tray of porridge, juice, and a biscuit. Victoria sighed and turned over to her other side on the mattress.

"Thank you, Hildegarde. Just leave it on the table. I'm not hungry this morning…" Come to think of it, she was probably too sick with grief to eat.

The old maid nodded and set the tray down on the little desk near the window. She turned over to Victoria again.

"Would you like to get dressed, dearie?" she asked kindly. Victoria sighed and sat up.

"I suppose so," she muttered.

Victoria stripped of her black nightgown and quickly held up her corset to cover her front as she sat down in the chair of her vanity. Hildegarde started lacing the corset with speed and skill…and tightness.

"Do you mind…" Victoria whispered to her maid, as if afraid that someone would overhear. "Do you mind…I mean, do you think you could make it a little looser today? Since I won't be going out, that is…"

The elderly maid smiled knowingly and stopped tugging at the laces. It would be nice to breathe for once. But Victoria would never just remove the corset. It seemed so improper, and it would feel like she was missing something if she took it off. At least now with it loosened, she could fill up her entire lungs, and it felt wonderful.

With Victoria's corset on, Hildegarde shuffled over to Victoria's closet and pulled out a black gown. It was the same style as all of Victoria's other dresses, only depressingly black. It came with a small, dark veil to cover her eyes. The old maid came back to Victoria and made a gesture for her to stand. The young girl sighed and stood, stepping into her mourning dress while her maid buttoned up the back.

"Oh, Hildegarde," Victoria said, since her maid was really the only person she could share her hopes and dreams with without laughing at her. "I don't think I can wait this long without word from Victor…locked up in my room without anyone to talk to…" she sighed, and the maid said nothing.

Hildegarde finished buttoning up the dress and handed Victoria the veil. She took it and set it down on her vanity next to her brush, which she picked up and started combing the snarls out of her long, brown hair. She set down her brush and sighed heavily. Hildegarde turned to leave, but before reaching the door, she said quietly, "Just like Romeo and Juliet," and she left, shaking her head sadly.

Victoria finished putting her hair in a loose bun and placed the veil over her eyes. She checked herself in the mirror.

Her face had always been pale, but was it always this pale? It seemed as white as the corpse bride's wedding veil, and her eyes were as dark as the corpse's as well. There it was again! Thinking about the corpse bride only made Victoria feel sad, and a little guilty. Did she take Victor from the bride? Well, Victor and her were betrothed before, but…she couldn't help feeling sorry for the woman whose tragic past dwindled in her mind like a bad dream. She didn't even know the woman's name.

Victoria stood up and turned away from the mirror, trying to stop feeling sorry for the bride and feeling miserable. She was happy to see that the fire was lit and made her way over to the sofa, blowing on her hands and warming them by the flames. Almost as suddenly as a nightmare, the thought came to Victoria like an arrow through her head. A horrible, heart wrenching thought:

What if Victor was in love with the corpse bride as she was with him?

Victoria nearly stopped breathing. After all, the corpse bride (oh, how she wished she knew her name!) was very beautiful. She was outgoing, musical, and very selfless from what Victoria had seen. She had also defended and saved Victor's life from Lord Barkis…she was a very noble person indeed. What if Victor loved her? Did he regret marrying Victoria?

The young girl shook her head to rid it of her thoughts. Of course not, don't be silly, one voice said.

Still, another whispered. It's not impossible.

"Oh, shut up!" Victoria hissed. This was a question to ask Victor in person, no matter how much he fidgeted when she did.

Just then, another thought came to her mind. A memory, actually. Victoria stood and walked away from the warmth of the fire and to her wardrobe. She knelt down and pulled open the very bottom drawer, pulling out fistfuls of handkerchiefs that protected the treasure within. With trembling hands, Victoria reached in once more to extract a small wrapped package, or at least that's what it looked like. She gently removed the brown paper from the treasure to reveal a bouquet of dried flowers that had taken a bluish tint: roses, baby's breath, lilies…

Victoria cradled the dead flowers as delicately as you would a newborn. The Corpse Bride's bouquet felt like it would fall to pieces at any given moment, but Victoria held it as dear as she would a child, touching it gently. She could smell a hint of the flower's fragrance, now gone and forgotten. Perhaps she just imagined it.

She wished she could see the corpse bride again. If only she could thank her, to tell her she was forever grateful and to rest in peace now.

"It just isn't fair," she said to herself. "The way she died. Her life was taken from her along with her dreams of becoming a bride…" That's why she fell in love with Victor, she thought. Victoria gave the bouquet a sad smile. "I hope we can see each other again someday." The woman carefully placed the bouquet back into its paper and into its drawer and stood to leave.

It's like the pages of a book, she thought to herself. Old and dusty, thought to be dead. But the words on the page speak a story and keep it alive.

Victoria stopped dead in her tracks, frozen.

Pages, words, speak…

A new excitement welled up in her chest, one she hadn't felt since the night before when Victor held her in his arms. She raced to her writing desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill and ink, and an envelope.

Why hadn't she thought of it before?

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