Memoirs of a Madwoman, a novel... by Rebecca Watters Options

[Lady Syl]

Prologue
Undisclosed Location in
the Shivering Isles, the
Realm of Sheogorath
3E 433

Looking at my reflection in the mirror before me, clad in the robe of an Order Priest, I never thought that this was where I would end up. I have betrayed my Lord Sheogorath. I am now an enemy of the man I once worshipped as the Madgod. He had been everything to me, just as He is everything to all of His loyal subjects, Manic and Demented alike. But now He is a man I despise. Sheogorath went too far when He allowed that outsider to come into the Realm and usurp the throne of Mania. Now I want Him to pay for what He did to Thadon, and to me, and to all that I loved. He took from me every person, everything that ever brought me joy and love, replacing it instead with fear, pain, and sorrow. He couldn’t stand the fact that my heart might love another more than it loved Him, so He took from me anyone He saw as a threat to my devotion to Him. How I didn’t see it before is almost shameful. But then, He keeps the truth hidden from us beneath the heavy and binding layers of madness which He claims is a blessing. That is the truth of the Shivering Isles. All of us that live here have been “blessed” with madness.

But no longer am I bound by those chains. The blessing of Order has freed me from slavery to that prattling fool, and my mind is no longer bogged down with insanity. I have come to a place of clarity for the first time in my life. I can now see how my life might have been, if not for Sheogorath and His Realm of Madness. Had I been given the chance to steer my own course, I might have led a normal life of no consequence. I might even have been happy. Instead, I am filled with anguish, and I feel as if my heart has been torn into a million tiny pieces while it still beat in my chest. Death will come swiftly; I no longer fear it, and I will welcome it with open arms. Only in death can I hope to find peace for what I have done. But even then, I may find nothing more than punishment—who is to say?

Thadon believed that when we die, we would all go to a place of perfect bliss and live together for all of eternity, never to feel pain again. But then, Thadon lived much of his life in his own false sense of bliss, a world created in his own mind with the help of his precious drugs. What a fool he was. And yet, what a beautiful soul he had. Even with all of his faults, I loved him. I still do, I guess. Our people can’t understand how a relationship ever developed between us; if you look at it from the outside, it’s easy to be shocked and confused by such an unlikely pair as Thadon and I. But one has to look much deeper, and return to the very beginning to understand. There is more to the story than what has been told, and only my heart still holds the truth of our love. Our love, conflicted by our madness as it was, was beautiful and pure. No one can understand that without knowing how it all began, and there is only one other person alive now who knows how the story goes. I began recording my story before the truth of my insane state became clear to me, and I gave it to a trusted confidant because I believe she will keep my story safely hidden away until the time is right for it to be revealed. Perhaps it never will be. One can only hope.

There is more to my life than what is here and now. I’ve lived 37 years, all within this Realm, and for an elf, I’m still very young. But in 37 years, I’ve had enough misery to last me an entire elven lifetime, and I’m ready to move on—whether to punishment or eternal bliss—or, more frighteningly, to nothingness. Whatever awaits me, I will face it with courage. I have no choice. The time has come, and I must answer the call, even at the cost of life itself, if necessary. And I take with me the only remaining link to Thadon that I have. The rest I leave behind me, and I pray that my story will not be lost. There is so much to it that has yet to be told, and all of it is part of who I am and who I was before. The events in my life have shaped me, like formless clay is molded into a twisted and beautiful masterpiece by the hands of a Demented artist. Everything that has happened to me has brought me to where I stand now, and it was all beyond my control. But the things I have witnessed, and the suffering that I have endured will not go down in history. Those who survive will view me only as a traitor, and I will be reviled.

But perhaps the time will come when my story can be told, and maybe then I will not be so misunderstood by all who have heard the echo of my name, trembled at the sound of my voice, and looked upon my cold and hardened face. So many have feared me. So many have ridiculed and betrayed me. And so many have seen me only as an enemy without a heart. But that is not all that true; I am not so cold and heartless as I have appeared. Like with each person, man or mer, there is more to me than what is seen on the outside. There are layers of emotion, thought, and experience that compose the depths of who and what I am. There is a side to me that was broken, and hidden away for many years. To those who truly knew me, I was a loyal friend, a doting mother, and a passionate lover. However, most people do not see the world for what it is. They see everything around them with a narrow view, and do not look beyond what is plain to see. Though I am a woman with a broken soul and a beating heart, to most I am only the Lady of Darkness, or the Mistress of Death. To them I am simply Syl, Duchess of Dementia….

Syl in Order robes

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Sep 2 2011, 03:58 AM

[Lady Syl]

Thomas: Woot woot! +1 in Penmanship...I'll take it! (By the way, would you happen to know any trainers in penmanship I can go to, so I can just pay to have my skill increased faster? I'm feeling a little anxious, and would rather train than to actually have to work for it... )

mALX:Thanks! Yes, I really wanted to build a strong and endearing relationship between Syl and Muurine, to make it even more shocking what happens between them down the line... It just shows how Muurine's hatred for the Manics was stronger than her motherly love for Syl...

SubRosa:Ah, Syl's not too concerned with the rules of the Rooftop Club anymore... She hasn't been a true member in a long time....

“Elven children are slow to come, and most demanding of their welcome.”--Yes, me too! When I read that in The Real Barenziah, I had to use it here. It is now unofficially an official Elven proverb.

Acadian:Thank you. I have been very concerned about trying to evolve Syl gradually into her madness--for the most part she will resist it, because of the innate goodness in her--but over time, she sinks deeper into the madness that surrounds her. Of course, there will be some things down the road which will push her to have sort of a "growth spurt" of madness, shall we say?



Chapter 3.3—The Archer from Ashwood

My first inkling that I would enjoy combat came at a rather young age, but my father hesitated to allow me to study the art itself. This all changed one year, when Muurine’s nephew came to visit her from Ashwood. His name was Sindorin, and he was very tall and very handsome. He was a full twenty years older than I, but even as a small child I had a bit of a crush on him. Perhaps it was only what some would call ‘puppy love’ back then, but I was in love with him from the moment I first saw him.

He had beautiful, sun-tanned skin from spending most of his days hunting, as well as thick brown hair that fell in curls just past his shoulders. And who could forget his gorgeous blue eyes? I knew a beautiful man when I saw one, and I had decided, even before my mother had died, that I was going to marry him some day. But to Sindorin, I was only a child. He was fond of me, but it was more like what a brother might feel for his younger sister. Still, I enjoyed getting any kind of attention from him, and I relished it.

He greeted me warmly when he came with Muurine to the palace one day, a couple of months before my twelfth birthday. We had known each other for most of my life, so when I saw him, I didn’t even hesitate to run to him excitedly. He lifted me up in his arms and carried me upon his shoulder, cautioning me to be mindful of his bow and arrows. Sindorin was an accomplished archer and a fine warrior. He had promised since I was very young that someday he would teach me to use a bow, and it was on this visit that his promise came true.

With my father’s permission, Sindorin gave Muurine a much-needed break and took me out for the day to go riding in the countryside just outside the city. Two Seducers followed close behind, as always, but I was otherwise alone with my first love. I was praying that he would ask me to marry him that day, though that was obviously never going to happen.

As we rode, he complimented me, saying, “I see that your riding skills have improved since my last visit—you are becoming quite the accomplished equestrian already.”

I was simply tickled that he had noticed, but I tried to act more grown-up and casual about it, saying, “I know. Father has taught me very well, and riding is one of my passions.”

He smiled and brought his horse to a stop, as I did the same, then he climbed down and helped me dismount from my horse as well.

“This should be a decent spot,” he said, looking around the copse of trees that created a fine shooting range. “Are you ready to make archery your newest passion, Syl?”

I let out a sigh. He still spoke to me in that tone people often use when speaking to a child, and I resented it. But I tried to be grateful that he was going to teach me, after years of promises that had yet to come true.

“I’m ready,” I said, looking at him with eager eyes. Why couldn’t I just be a little older, so that he would notice me like he did all the beautiful ladies at court?

After setting up a target, he brought his bow to me, helping me to hold it correctly, and showing me the proper stance. Standing behind me, he moved my hands and my arms to where they needed to be, and then he helped me to mount the arrow. When I was at the ready, he told me to aim at the target and try to hit the bull’s eye in the center.

I don’t remember most of what he said, though, because I paid little attention to his words. Instead, I felt something almost instinctual take over from inside me, and I carefully analyzed the distance between the target and my bow. Knowing that the arrow needed to arch, I aimed slightly above the target before letting my arrow fly. I hit the bull’s eye on the very first shot. Sindorin was blown away, and at first he was speechless.

“Wow!” he said, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked at the arrow in the target. “Wow! Syl, that was amazing! Are you certain that you’ve never shot a bow and arrow before?”

I smiled with pride, and said, “I guess I’m a natural.”

“I guess,” he replied in agreement. He wiped his hand through his hair and took in a breath, then said, “They’ve always said that Bosmer make for the finest marksmen in the known world. I guess that proves true with you. Amazing! Try it again!”

He handed me another arrow, but this time it got to my head, and I shot too low. It hit the ground at the base of the tree, and I was embarrassed that I had missed so badly. But he handed me another arrow, saying, “It’s all right. Try it again.”

I shot the third arrow, and this time I got it straight on, hitting the first arrow and splitting it in two. Sindorin was left in awe.

“Whew. At this rate, you’ll be a better archer than I am by the time you’re grown! Won’t your father be proud! And Muurine—wait till they see you! They’ll be amazed!”

My smile returned, and I looked down at the bow in my hands. Though it was almost as big as I was, I managed to shoot that bow like a master. Even I was surprised. And Sindorin was right—my father and Muurine were left speechless when they saw my skill, though I didn’t do quite as well showing them as I had in the field that day.

However, I still was not allowed to start taking formal lessons for another year. I was hoping to have Sindorin as my instructor, but he had his own life to live down in Ashwood, and it was years before I would see him again. Every time I held a bow, though, I thought of him and smiled. Some day he was going to look at me the way he looked at Earana, and Celina, and Marie Petrand…. Some day, I told myself, Sindorin was going to love me the way I loved him.

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Apr 18 2011, 08:46 PM