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:Oh, terribly embarrassing! I would have hated being in Syl's shoes at that moment! Galvon is definitely not the guy for Syl--he's too much of a...well, a weakling. She wants a man who worships her--but within reason. She is definitely a strong woman. I like to call Syl my "towanda." (If you've seen the movie Fried Green Tomatoes, you'll know what I mean.)

And also, thank you again for pointing out my error with the corset/bodice thing. I've always loved both, but had yet to quite understand the differences between them. But now that you've clarified that for me, I shan't make the same mistake again!

(Also--I had a corset of a cheaper sort that I was also able to tighten and tie on my own, with practice, so I definitely understand what you said about that. I want a real one, but it's something I need to save up for... I love costumes of that sort! )

Acadian:She is definitely ahead of her time, in a way, as a strong woman who is determined to break free of traditional roles and constraints. I've always seen the Shivering Isles as an interesting mixture of my favorite historic eras--Medieval, Elizabethan, and Victorian. It has elements that can be taken from all of them, so I thought it would be fitting for the Demented to have more of a Victorian Era mindset, in which Syl feels stifled and constrained.

I'm glad you liked my creepy atmosphere for the scene of Syl's attack. What you said is exactly what I was aiming for.

mALX:oops! I guess I forgot to mention the dagger after Galvon rescued her! I should go figure out how to sort of fit that in somewhere! lol

I'm glad you picked up on that--she is like me in that way. She wants to be noticed, but at the same time, she wants to be invisible. It's quite the dilemma, lol! Sadly, she will eventually push pretty much everyone away, perhaps going overboard in her desire to be free and independent. It takes a lot of work to get a characteristic like this balanced!



Chapter 5.3—Obsession

When I returned home the night of my attack, Muurine was waiting for me, as always, and she just about did a flip when she saw the laces of my bodice hanging loose, and the tiny cut on my neck where the dagger had dug in. She could see that I had been crying, and she was alarmed at my disheveled appearance.

“Madgod, Syl, what happened? Who did this to you? Please don’t tell me you were--.”

“Nothing happened,” I cut in. “I’m fine. Galvon took care of it for me.”

“You were attacked then?”

“Like I said, Galvon stopped it before anything happened. I’m fine.”

She sat on the side of the bed and watched me as I bent down to view my reflection in the looking glass, using a wet cloth from my washbasin to clean my face and neck. Then I healed myself, having noticed the cut, and began readying myself for bed. I didn’t talk, and I didn’t even look at Muurine, but she continued to watch me closely, still concerned about what had happened.

“Syl, won’t you tell me anything?” she asked finally, after waiting for a time for me to speak.

I let out a sigh as I stripped off my dress and threw it on the floor by the shoes I had just finished taking off. Then I answered, “There’s no need, Muurine. Nothing happened to me, so what’s the point in talking about it? Just so you can make it into the morning’s gossip?”

“No,” she replied, offended that I would even suggest that, although it was likely true. “I’m simply concerned for your well-being. You’re like a daughter to me, Syl, and…if somebody hurt you, I would want to know. I’d make them my next test subjects for the spells I’ve been working on, actually….”

“Well, I wasn’t hurt. Galvon happened upon the scene, and the men who tried to attack me are now lying dead in the street. Does that satisfy your need to know everything?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes a little, as if hurt by my attitude. Then she stood up and began getting into her bed, saying, “Fine. I can see that I’m not wanted here.”

“Oh, Madgod,” I cursed under my breath, annoyed by how easily hurt she was, though I’m certain it was all a pretense.

I pulled on my nightgown and walked over to her bed, bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She opened her dark brown eyes a little and almost smiled up at me, then said, “You know, I really do think of you like a daughter to me, Syl. You’re the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had, and I’ve raised you since you were a year old….”

“I know, Muurine,” I said, smiling faintly and sitting on the side of her bed. “And I’m sorry you got stuck with me, and that I’ve been such a handful.”

“Oh, not at all, dear,” she said, getting comfortable in her bed and stretching a bit. “You’ve been a real treat. Difficult at times, yes—but always a wonder, and a blessing as well…. You’ll understand it one day, when you’re a mother.”

“Do you think I will be, one day?” I asked, thinking about it for the first time in my life.

“Of course, dear.”

I smiled a little, thinking about it. “You know, I think I’d like that. Being a mother, I mean. I’ve never really thought about it before.”

“Your time will come I’m sure, dear. Just be careful about what sort of men you are letting into your life, though. You wouldn’t want your child to be sired by a brute or by someone who’ll abandon you one day.” She paused to yawn, and then added, “But you don’t need to worry too much about it at this point, since you will likely not even be fertile for a couple more years.”

“Perhaps not,” I replied, thinking quietly. I yawned then, and got up off the bed, going to my own across the chamber. Muurine was practically already asleep, and she didn’t hear me say goodnight. So, I climbed into bed and let out a sigh, thinking about the terrifying events that had happened that night. Then I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer before blowing out the candle on my nightstand and drifting off to sleep.

******

Around the time of my seventeenth birthday, my father suddenly began taking an interest in my life again. The reason?--My studies were being neglected, because I was having too many distractions. The verdict—“No more sneaking out and going to parties and what have you….”

I was stunned, and my father almost smiled when he saw the look on my face. But he managed to keep a straight face, and said, “You didn’t actually think I was oblivious to your mischief, Syl, now did you? While I am not pleased with your behavior, I am willing to give pardon if you surrender yourself to staying home from parties from now until I say otherwise, so you can continue educating yourself with useful knowledge and skills. Shall we make it a deal?”

I let out a sigh and nodded my head, unable to look at him, saying only, “Yes, Ada.”

“Very good then,” he replied, clearing his throat a bit uncomfortably. “Well, you may carry on, then. You have much studying to do, if you’re ever to catch up with all that you’ve been neglecting in the past months, so I would suggest you not dawdle.” As I started to leave, he added, “Oh and wash that paint off your face. I won’t have my daughter running around here looking like a harlot.”

Of course, he was referring to the eye shadow, liner, and lip paint that Cutter got me wearing. I let out a sigh and nodded, then walked to my quarters, having no choice but to obey.

And so I was being confined to the palace again, a prisoner in my own House…. It’s kind of ironic, when I think back on it now. Back then, I couldn’t stand being confined to the palace like a caged bird. But now, I’ve become a sort of prisoner in the palace by my own doing, and it is where I am content to stay, as I feel safe nowhere else.

It’s strange how we change through the years, becoming that which we most feared and despised while growing up. Perhaps it isn’t that way for everyone, but for me it has been a huge transformation. I went from a carefree youth, fearing nothing and no one, to a woman who now fears everything around her. But I’ve always been good at masking my fears and my vulnerability under the guise of confidence and courage. The truth is, I’ve always been afraid, ever since I was a child. It’s just gotten worse over the years, to the point that I feel terrified even to leave the security of my own quarters.

Our lives never cease changing, even when they remain the same. Thadon told me that once, not so long ago, but I laughed at him when he said it. Now I see that he was right, and it’s true. We never fully see the truth that lies before our eyes, until it has already left us. Then we wonder how we can ever get it back…. Can I forgive him for what he did? Can he forgive me? Perhaps somehow we can find a way to change things with each other, to make them right. But would we be allowed to, if we tried? I want to make things right between us, but Sheogorath would likely never allow it. How it went on for as long as it did, I cannot understand, but we cannot go on testing His patience forever.

But my heart cannot resist from telling him the truth about it all. He needs to know the truth, even if it kills the both of us. Madgod, why is it so hard to turn away from him forever? Why can’t I shut him out and tear him from my heart, as I know I ought? I am too weak. Again, I have faltered where I should have been strong. I will be punished for my weakness. Madgod forgive me, but I love him so….

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: May 5 2011, 08:51 PM