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:That is something I know from experience, in some ways. I didn't fit in because I didn't follow the crowd. I certainly understand the desire to, though, and I thought it was fitting for Syl in her desire to escape the pressures of living under her father's rule. She's rebelling, and not necessarily in a good way...

Oh yes, and Cutter was always one of my favorite NPCs. Something about her has always appealed to me, so I thought she would make a fitting friend for young Syl... And little by little I will bring in more people from the game. Some don't come in for awhile yet, but many of the connections are beginning to show, at this point.

Acadian:Thank you. Evolving Syl's character is something I've put a lot into, because I've been wholly concerned that I would not do it correctly. And yes, Cutter definitely plays a huge role in Syl's evolution, because Syl is most impressionable in her current state of transformation from childhood and adolescence into adulthood.

mALX:A downward spiral, indeed. And, like most things, it will get much worse before it gets better. She will learn much from this experience, though....



Chapter 5.2—Obsession

The more I was spending time with Cutter, the less time I spent with Galvon and the rest of our friends. Most of them didn’t mind it so much, but Galvon was growing increasingly jealous. I began feeling threatened by him, as he was starting to stalk me obsessively, and I couldn’t seem to go anywhere in Crucible without him being there, watching me.

Finally, one day, I decided to confront him about it. He had been spying on me as usual, but he tripped on something and stumbled, falling into some crates, and that caught my attention—as well as the attention of all the other people walking in the area. He tried to hide himself again, but he knew I had already seen him, so I narrowed my eyes and approached him, not even attempting to hide my annoyance with him.

“I saw you there, Galvon. Come out and show yourself, at once!”

After a few brief seconds, he peered out from behind the crates, and then he came out with his head down, looking like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. He smiled awkwardly, and raised his hand slightly, muttering, “Hi, Syl.”

“Why are you following me?” I demanded.

“I…was just in the area, and…I--.”

“Don’t lie to me!” I spat. “I know you were following me. This is hardly the first time I’ve noticed. I could have you arrested and tortured in my father’s dungeon, and don’t think I would hesitate to do so, if you continue to stalk me.”

“But, Syl, I…love you!” he cried. I was horrified, as he knelt there before me in the middle of the street, proclaiming his love for all to hear. A few bystanders watched the scene with mixed expressions. Honestly, it was pathetic.

“Get up! Stop making a fool of yourself, Galvon!” I said. “I have had enough of your jealousy and your obsessive behavior. I will not tolerate it any longer. Leave me alone, or I’ll tell my father about you stalking me.”

He remained on his knees, and he wept into his hands. I wasn’t sure whether to be more angry or embarrassed. I was quite a bit of both, actually, and I rolled my eyes impatiently. He was making a ridiculous scene, and people were laughing at us!

“I thought you would love me!” he cried through his tears. “I thought you cared about me!”

“Just get away from me, cur! You disgust me! I despise you!”

Perhaps I went a little overboard, insulting him as I did, but I was furious with his behavior. After that last outburst from me, he got up and ran off, disappearing for awhile. I felt somewhat guilty for saying such things to him, but I had simply had enough, and I didn’t care if I never saw him again.

Meanwhile, I continued sneaking out three or more nights a week, and my father still didn’t have any clue. He was too busy playing around with his mistress to care, anyway; but I was glad he was distracted. It kept him off my case, at least….

Sneaking around through the back streets of Crucible at night was dangerous, though, especially for a young woman who was walking the streets alone. I knew I was taking a risk that way; but I didn’t really see how easy a target I was for anyone looking to cause trouble, until I found myself in a very bad and nearly fatal situation.

It was especially dark that night, and it had been raining off and on all day. The streets were muddy and the air was cool, and a thick blanket of fog descended into the city. This, alone, made me nervous, but then I got the sense that someone was following me. It was a horrible, terrifying feeling, but I tried to ignore it while I picked up my pace. Thinking I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, I panicked. I started to run, but then I ran straight into a man who caught me in his arms, and I screamed.

The stout Breton man who had caught me laughed at my terror, and I tried to flee. But when I whirled around, I found myself face to face with a tall, slender and fair-haired Imperial, who waved a dagger in my face. He was the one who had been following me, and it seemed they had drawn me into a trap. He laughed in a calm, dark manner, which frightened me all the more.

“My, my, my,” he said, looking at me while his friend held me tightly with a dagger pressed to my throat. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out this late at night, and in this part of town? Don’t you know there are bad men out here, who might do you harm?”

“P-Please,” I begged, “let me go….”

“Certainly, madwoman,” he replied. “But first, my friend and I must teach you a lesson about the dangers of being out here so late at night without a chaperone.”

I swallowed hard, and asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

The Imperial smiled and looked down at my heaving bosom, and I knew then what he had intended. I was horrified, but I couldn’t move because of the dagger pressed against my throat. The Imperial, seeming to know that I was hiding something, reached his hand up under my skirts, sliding them up my legs until he found what he was looking for—my dagger, strapped to my thigh.

“Aha, I just knew I would find something hidden here,” he said with a smile. He pulled the dagger out of its sheath and looked closely at it. “Well, well, well—this is quite a dagger, madwoman. A rare honor, to be given a dagger like this.”

“My f-father is the Duke,” I stammered. But the men only chuckled at my claim—whether or not they believed me, I can’t say, but they didn’t seem to care even if they did.

The Imperial then used my dagger to slice through the laces on my bodice, and his friend laughed with excitement as I began crying and begging them not to hurt me. But he just ignored me, and said ferociously, “Now, let me see--!”

I closed my eyes as tears slipped down my cheeks, and I fully expected to be murdered that night. The Imperial smiled devilishly, while his stout Breton friend continued to press the dagger into my neck, and I said aloud, in a miserable voice, “Sheogorath, help me!”

The next thing I knew, I opened my eyes just in time to see the Imperial’s menacing smile turn into dread as the sharp end of a blade came through him from behind. All of us gasped.

The Breton dropped his dagger in surprise, while the Imperial looked down at the sword that was going through his abdomen. When the sword was pulled out, he dropped to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth as he began to choke on it, and that’s when I saw Galvon standing there behind him, holding a bloodied long sword.

He slashed the blade across the Imperial’s neck, severing his head in one quick swipe, and then he charged at the Breton, who had long since let me go. I watched in amazement, unable to move, as Galvon ran him through. When the man fell dead, Galvon turned to look at me, but I was still too shocked to move or even to say anything. Even more shocking was the look in his eyes—they were dark and almost just as evil as the eyes of the men who he had just slaughtered. It sent shivers down my spine, but I reached toward him and began trying to thank him, only to be cut off.

“I should have let them hurt you!” he cried. “It would have been your own damn fault.” I was stunned by his harsh words, and I couldn’t speak as he continued to glare at me angrily. Then he continued, saying, “But I couldn’t let that happen to you, Syl, because I love you.”

“Galvon, I’m…sorry--.”

“Don’t be. I don’t care anymore. If you don’t love me, I can’t force you to be with me. I’m a fool to have fallen for you in the first place. Go home, or back to Cutter’s—I don’t care. But don’t expect me to save you the next time you find yourself in trouble, Syl.”

He began to walk away, but then I stopped him, grabbing him by the arm. “I didn’t ask for you to save me, Galvon. I don’t need a god-damned hero! But…thank you anyway. You have shown your worth.”

“Just as you have shown yours,” he said, pulling away. But again, I stopped him.

“What is that supposed to mean? I just gave you a compliment, and you shot me down. Why does it have to be all or nothing with you, Galvon? You should have just been happy to have me at all.”

“I went out of my way to please you, Syl!” he snapped, turning on me. “I wanted to be more than just friends with benefits with you, but you’re too much of a harlot to care!”

I slapped him across the face when he said that, taking him by surprise. My eyes glared hotly at him as he rubbed his sore cheek. Then I tore into him, saying, “How dare you speak to me in such an appalling manner, Galvon Redoran! I am a lady of esteem, and my father is the Duke of Dementia. Most men would give anything to have what you have, but you’re too selfish and controlling to let me go! I am not your property, nor any other man’s, and I will not be tied down to a life of quiet submission with anyone! If what I offer isn’t satisfying enough for you, then go find someone else to give you what you want.”

“I want you, Syl!” he cried. “Don’t you see that? I don’t want anyone else—no other women, not even ten—not even a hundred—could give me the satisfaction that you have given me.”

“You have not been satisfied, Galvon. You are not satisfied, because I won’t settle down and stay devoted to you alone. What makes you think I am going to change?”

“Because love can move mountains, Syl,” he said, taking my hands in his and holding them together. “I love you, and I know that you will not go on this way forever.”

“You do not know me very well, then; and it’s clear you have not been listening. I am not going to give myself to you anymore than I already have. Now go away from me, and do not ever speak to me again. You have shown me the extent of your love, and I am not moved. Your harsh words and cruel name-calling have given me all that I need to know how deep your love goes. Goodbye, Galvon. May the Madgod be with you.”

I left him then, to return to the palace, and he never spoke to me again. Eventually, he moved away, after his mother was killed when a skooma addict broke into their house in search of money. What became of him I’ll never know…. Perhaps I was unfair to him, but I had to be honest about how I felt, and to do what was best for both of us in the end. I never held anything against him, and only felt fondness for him in my heart. But I couldn’t love him as he wanted me to, and I wasn’t going to lie just to make him happy. I had to be honest, even if it meant breaking his heart.

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: May 3 2011, 04:30 PM