Status: Finished.
Unlawful
Act I, Scene I.
"Mother!" Gabriella exclaimed, moving gracefully across the white-tiled floor after her mother, small red shoes clicking quietly, but it echoed through the throne room, pinging off the walls until it became soundless and non-existent.
"Gabriella," her mother stopped and turned around, long blue dress swishing around behind her. Gabriella watched one of the servants, who were polishing a large ceramic vase, move behind one of the columns, so as not to get involved in another one of their fights. "You are seventeen, my girl. I was pregnant with you at your age."
"Mother, mother, I want to marry for love, not for tradition" --Gabriella looked up at the crystal chandiler hanging above their heads wistfully.-- "Please, one more year. I want to find my own suitor, or have him find me, rather than being matched to someone I do not love."
Queen Margaret sighed and shook her head, her large pearl earrings bouncing against her skin. She could never deny her daughter anything. She was so naïve and innocent, and soon she would realise that love was merely a figment of ones imagination, and be glad to marry the man so eagerly awaiting the Queen's call in England. "One year, that is all you have, Gabriella. And, he, whoever he may be, must get my consent."
The Queen had thought up a new rule, just so she could determine who Gabriella could marry, a large loophole she had found in her daughters' quest for real love. God forbid her daughter try to marry someone below them.
"Thank you." Gabriella bowed a little and made her way past her mother and out of the throne room elegantly, shutting the door softly behind her, smiling softly at the servant standing by the door, who smiled back.
"Gabriella," her mother stopped and turned around, long blue dress swishing around behind her. Gabriella watched one of the servants, who were polishing a large ceramic vase, move behind one of the columns, so as not to get involved in another one of their fights. "You are seventeen, my girl. I was pregnant with you at your age."
"Mother, mother, I want to marry for love, not for tradition" --Gabriella looked up at the crystal chandiler hanging above their heads wistfully.-- "Please, one more year. I want to find my own suitor, or have him find me, rather than being matched to someone I do not love."
Queen Margaret sighed and shook her head, her large pearl earrings bouncing against her skin. She could never deny her daughter anything. She was so naïve and innocent, and soon she would realise that love was merely a figment of ones imagination, and be glad to marry the man so eagerly awaiting the Queen's call in England. "One year, that is all you have, Gabriella. And, he, whoever he may be, must get my consent."
The Queen had thought up a new rule, just so she could determine who Gabriella could marry, a large loophole she had found in her daughters' quest for real love. God forbid her daughter try to marry someone below them.
"Thank you." Gabriella bowed a little and made her way past her mother and out of the throne room elegantly, shutting the door softly behind her, smiling softly at the servant standing by the door, who smiled back.