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]

SubRosa: Indeed, Syl and Alanwen do not make for a very loving friendship, do they? But perhaps Syl has carried her hatred for Alanwen further than she ought? And Lucian--of course, we can already see in his persistence that he is not likely one to give up... It doesn't bode well...

Acadian: Thank you! Yes indeed--Syl is on quite the hormonal roller-coaster at this point. She does a pretty good job keeping herself under control, but perhaps only because her survival depends on it. She is certainly no weakling, and Lucian doesn't seem to realize his mistake in wanting to control her...

haute ecole rider: Thank you--and I certainly understand the lack of comments. I often find myself at a loss for words, even as I reply to the wonderful comments all of you give. I feel like I just repeat myself over and over again, and I can't really express the fullness of my gratitude in words... I am very glad that you are reading and enjoying it, however.

TK:Aww, no body-painting with her blood? All of the next four chapters revolved around it! Now I have to go back and re-write them... J/K

No, she's not a very artistic sort, anyway. She will be getting distracted from her wonderfully-blooming "career" as a Demented warrior, however, as you are about to find out. She has a long road of distractions, mistakes, and learning the hard way ahead of her....

mALX: Thank you! Indeed, quite shocking, yet perfectly fitting. Actually, I got the idea to add cutting to Syl's story from four places: Cutter the smith, the Dagger of Friendship (very obvious what its purpose is...), studying adolescent psychology, and watching lifetime movies... All of these combined to form the image of the adolescent Demented wood elf who would one day become the duchess of this rather unusual land...

All: I am, as always, so glad to have you reading and enjoying my interpretation of the Duchess of Dementia's early years, and I hope you will continue to enjoy following her journey through madness... Thank you all.



Chapter 4.2—The Duke’s Delinquent Daughter

Though I was sixteen years old, my father still would not give me very much freedom. He didn’t want me going out with my friends in the city, day or night. Even Muurine thought he was being too strict, but she would never dare to voice her opinions to his face. Instead, she hinted that she would turn a blind eye if I were to decide to sneak out of the palace at night--but if I were caught it would all be on me. I was entirely fine with this, and I started sneaking out right away, not even thinking of the dangers that my behavior could have posed. Youth is often coupled with ignorance, and risk-taking is all too common, even among the Demented. I was certainly no different….

After I was sure that my father was in bed for good, and when the coast was clear, I snuck through the palace and out to the grounds, wearing a dark hooded cloak so as to stay better hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t easy to go unnoticed as I crept through the shadows, trying to stay out of sight, as the Seducers and Saints out patrolling the grounds had eyes like those of a hawk. I was very good at sneaking, though, as my father had given me lessons when I was a child, just for the fun of it. I had soaked up his lessons on sneaking and lock-picking thoroughly, and now I finally had a real chance to use those lessons to my advantage.

Having made it to the door that led to Crucible, I let out my breath, realizing that I had been holding it. I was past the hardest part, but I still had to get through the city in the middle of the night, without being recognized by the Seducers that were on duty there. Making sure that my face was well-hidden beneath the hood of my cloak, I went through the door and carefully made my way down the long staircase, nodding when the Seducer standing at her post greeted me. I was relieved that she didn’t appear to recognize me. Once I was on ground-level, I was mostly safe to roam the streets without being recognized, and I relaxed a little.

I turned to look back up at the stairs, amazed that I had done it. I had snuck all the way out of the palace for the first time since my childhood. It was such a rush, and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t tried it sooner. What had I been missing?

I took the back streets to avoid being seen, just in case one of the Seducers might still realize who I was, and I made my way to the house of my Khajiit friend, Shavari. Shavari was the daughter of two of the most prominent members of my father’s court, but her parents were much less restricting than my own father was, and she had some of the most infamous parties in all of Crucible. Everyone who wanted to come was invited, but most of those who went were young and foolish, myself included.

Though I had never been to any of Shavari’s parties before, I knew most of the people that were there. Two men I didn’t know eyed me hungrily as I walked by, in search of Shavari. Though I liked being admired, and I wanted to know what it was to be with a man, for some reason I suddenly felt awkward and modest, and I looked away as my face grew hot with embarrassment. I thanked the Madgod it was too dim inside for them to see me well enough to know, and I soon found Shavari standing among a group of friends in a nearby room.

“Syl!” she purred excitedly, coming to embrace me into the fold. “Madgod, I never thought you’d make it to one of my parties! However did you convince the Duke to let you come?”

“I didn’t,” I replied, with a mischievous smile.

Shavari was shocked momentarily; then a smile spread across her catlike face and she clicked her tongue on the back of her teeth. “Well, I never thought you for the type… What changed your mind?”

“I needed to break free,” I replied. “I was being stifled in that palace up there, and I’ve had enough of following my father’s unfair rules. I’m sixteen. I need to breathe, and to live. I’m here for the same reason as everyone else, after all.”

“Perhaps,” she replied in an odd sort of manner. What was she thinking?

Her yellow eyes turned from one side to the other, as she examined our surroundings, then she pulled me aside to speak where no others could listen.

“Syl, now don’t get me wrong—I’m glad that you’re here. I’ve wanted you to come for a long time, but…you need to be careful about how you handle yourself, if you know what I mean?”

“N-No…I don’t know what you mean, Shavari. Should I?”

She smiled vaguely, but I think it was more of a mocking smile than a friendly one, and her ears went back as she bent in closer to whisper, “Syl, some of the people here are…different from the sort of people you are accustomed to at the palace. The men are especially so, and you won’t find many of them acting like gentlemen while they are here.”

“Oh,” I replied, finally grasping her meaning. I blushed a little, and was surprised at myself that I suddenly felt so modest. At court, I flirted freely with the men, and I had even kissed some of them when no one was looking. But now I was out of my usual surroundings, and it was very different.

“Look,” she said, her ears going up again as she took my arm, “I’m not trying to frighten you, or make you uncomfortable. I just want you to know that you have to be more careful around some of the men here—your usual games could wind up getting you into trouble, as the men here aren’t accustomed to empty flirting, you see?”

“Yes…I see. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m your friend—it’s my duty to make sure you don’t get hurt, especially at one of my parties. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself, and watch who you talk to. Be yourself, but don’t let anyone try to make you do anything you don’t want to do. If you feel threatened or uncomfortable, just come and find me, and I will take care of things, yes?”

I nodded, but I didn’t reply. I suddenly felt a little more nervous, wondering if perhaps I should have stayed at the palace after all. What if my father was right? But then I shook those thoughts from my head and tried to follow Shavari’s advice—relax and enjoy myself. I was smart enough to figure out who I ought to avoid, and I could handle myself pretty well with the dagger I kept hidden beneath my skirts, should anyone try to mess with me.

After a couple drinks of wine, I began to feel better and I found the party quite enjoyable. It was nothing like the dull and formal parties I was used to at court, where the only thing to enjoy was the dancing and the live entertainment—which usually consisted of my father’s enemies being tortured in one form or another. But Shavari’s parties were unlike anything I had ever seen, and I was surprised to find that her parents were conveniently absent for the duration of these parties.

Everyone there was drinking, and some were playing party games that only the Demented can enjoy. Our games are dark, and they often involve self-mutilation and torture of one form or another. Pain is our pleasure, and we delight in the agony of ourselves and others.

Some people at the party used skooma right out in the open, and the smell of it made me want to throw up. I had always hated it, though I was used to it because of my father, and I avoided the skooma addicts at the parties without question.

My first night out promised not to be very eventful, and I had every intention of staying only for a short time before sneaking back to the palace. But that all changed rather unexpectedly, when I heard a voice from behind me say, “Greetings, Syl!”

Hearing my name called so suddenly, I was startled, and I turned around to see Galvon Redoran standing there, with a handsome smile. He was a black-haired, grey-skinned Dunmer, and I knew him well from my days spent with Muurine as she gossiped with friends. His mother, Davilia, was one of Muurine’s closest friends, so Galvon and I had spent much time together while they gossiped over tea. As we grew into hormone-charged youths, he began developing a deep infatuation with me, while I simply enjoyed flirting with him. I’ll admit, I was really a terrible flirt in my youth, but I hardly realized that I was even doing it.

Galvon pressed my hand to his lips, and I smiled as I greeted him. Then he asked how I was doing, and how I had talked my father into letting me come to the party. I told him basically the same thing that I had told Shavari, and he was impressed that I would risk so much by disobeying my father.

“Well, I’m glad to see you here,” he said with a charming smile. “Shavari has the best parties in Crucible. Are you enjoying yourself, thus far?”

“I am. But I wouldn’t mind another drink. Some wine, perhaps?”

“I’ll get that for you! Wait right here.”

I smiled as he ran off to pour me a goblet of wine. When he returned with two glasses, I graciously took one and we drank a toast to freedom. We talked for awhile, laughing about his mother’s new favorite hair-style, which made it look like there was a grey bee-hive growing from the top of her head. She was a very pretty woman, but she had a knack for finding the most outrageous outfits and hair styles to ruin her lovely façade.

The more I had to drink, the more our casual talking turned into flirting, and before I knew it, we were headed up to the bedchamber together. I was too drunk and confused to stop it, and though it was the first time for both of us, Galvon seemed to know what he was doing. It was not, however, what I had been expecting—and to be perfectly honest, I was a little disappointed. Until it happened, I had always envisioned that my first time with a man would be special; I wanted it to be like it was in the romantic novels I had read, where love and passion blended to create the perfect atmosphere in which I could be swept away. But instead, I felt awkward the whole time, even after it was over. Galvon, however, was left in awe.

“That was amazing!” he whispered breathlessly as we lay beside each other afterward. He leaned over and tried to kiss me, but I pulled away and began straightening my dress. I didn’t want him to see the disappointment, embarrassment, and regret that was already written on my face.

“Syl, what’s wrong?” he asked, when I headed for the door. “Was I not good? It’s just that I’ve never done that before….”

I rolled my eyes, managing to put on my tough exterior, and I let out a sigh. “Relax, Galvon, you were fine. But I need to get back to the palace, before someone realizes I am gone. It’s almost sunrise.”

He grabbed my hand to stop me from leaving, and then he said, “I want you to stay. Please, Syl, just a bit longer—I love you.”

“Galvon, it was just sex. Let’s not bring love into it.”

“So, that’s it? You just made love to me, and now we’re over with?”

“I didn’t say that. But I don’t want you bringing love into our relationship—I’ve told you that before.”

“So, we’re in a relationship?” he asked, with a hopeful smile.

I rolled my eyes, and said, “I don’t know. Right now I just want to go home. I’m very tired.”

He nodded and agreed to escort me to the palace staircase. We walked very slowly through the streets, and we didn’t talk very much. It was too awkward, and I didn’t want to talk about it. But all of a sudden, we heard a noise, like someone had stumbled into some old crates in an alley nearby.

Galvon drew his sword and pushed me back, prepared to defend me as a tall, thin, and sickly looking fellow stumbled out of the alley toward us. We thought for sure he was going to attack, but he simply stopped and asked, in a thin, ghost-like voice, “’ey, you got some skooma? I ain’t gots none, and the prices ‘ave got so high, I can’t hardly affords it, y’know?”

I was still terrified, as the man continued to look at me in a way that I perceived as threatening. But he was only interested in feeding his habit.

Galvon thrust his sword’s tip forward just a bit, to spook the man, saying, “We don’t have any skooma, old man. Now get out of here, before I have you arrested for harassing a lady of Lord Gelebor’s court.”

The man backed off at that threat, looking at us both fearfully, then turned and started to walk away, mumbling to himself, “I ain’t meanin’ anybody no harm. I just need some skooma….”

When the man was far enough away, Galvon re-sheathed his sword and turned to me. “He’s gone, Syl. You’re safe now.”

I smiled a little, responding by saying, “That was very brave of you, Galvon. I thought for sure he was going to attack us.”

“That old man? Nah, he’s just an old skooma addict. Some of them will try to kill for the drug, but most of them are too weak and feeble even to try.”

“My father’s not, and he has skooma every day.”

“Yeah, but he’s got the money to support his habit, so he can keep himself from getting sick from withdrawals.”

“I never knew you were so courageous,” I said again, in an attempt to hide the fear that encounter had caused me. “Thank you for protecting me.”

He smiled modestly and shrugged. “I’d do anything for you, Syl. I could never let anyone hurt you.”

I offered a thankful, although forced smile, and then continued walking, eager to get home, while trying hard not to cry. I knew he still wanted to talk to me, but we were already close to the palace. When we got to the staircase, I pulled up my hood again and left him without much of a goodbye.

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Apr 25 2011, 05:05 PM