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Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 2 2011, 11:48 PM

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….

http://images.uesp.net//3/34/SI-npc-Syl_Order.jpg

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 3 2011, 12:17 AM

Yay you made it! Welcome to Chorrol Syl.

A good start to your tale. You take a character usually seen as a villain, and give us her side of things. I wonder if she will still seem the villain after we see more of her life from her point of view? Perhaps. But I am sure it will be a fun read either way.

And yet another Bosmer character! With three Bosmer girls, and three boys, we completely outnumber all the other races here!

Posted by: Acadian Apr 3 2011, 01:41 AM

How wonderful that you made it over here from Bethesda. Welcome the Chorrol Arena!

Yes, another member of the wood elf clan!

You have a neat premise here and I look forward to reading more of Syl.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 3 2011, 05:40 PM

Thank you both! Yes, I am glad to make my way here, and it will be nice to see if the response I get here will be any different than the one I received at Bethsoft? From what I've seen, there are a lot more writers and readers here, so it'll be interesting to see what happens! Thanks for the invite, SubRosa!

And if we Bosmer are now the most populous in Chorrol, then I'm going to feel quite at home here! Yay! (There's not much love for Bosmer over on the Bethesda forums, it seems...)

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 3 2011, 06:24 PM

Yes, there are tons of Bosmer here. Acadian = Buffy, TheOtherRick = Talendor, Thomas "The Cook" Kaira = Derelas, Winter Wolf = Aradroth, then my own Teresa, and of course your Syl. Six ongoing stories with Bosmer protagonists. Who ever would have imagined that from the race that always wins the polls for "Most Annoying" or "Most Hated"?

Posted by: Thomas Kaira Apr 3 2011, 10:04 PM

A most interesting start! An excellent way to respond to the question of "what happened after Jygallag was freed?"

I'll be enjoying this one, I'm sure.

Posted by: Ceidwad Apr 3 2011, 10:45 PM

Interesting to play it as an NPC from the game. Syl rather appears in-game as a heartless umbrella seller, pardon the French, but NPCs in Oblivion rarely have very much depth. You will provide it instead, it seems.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 4 2011, 07:10 PM

Yes, hidden within that imaginary mind of hers, I saw great depth, and being interested in psychology, I wanted to explore that psychopathic mind.... Very interesting. . . .

Posted by: mALX Apr 5 2011, 07:45 AM

Welcome to the fic forum !!! I saw many places I'd love to quote because of the sheer brilliance of wording - but don't want to spam your thread right off, lol. Here is one of my absolute faves:

Awesome Write !!!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 5 2011, 04:09 PM

Well, thank you! I am glad my prologue has already made a good impact. It was my intention to grab my readers and pull them in with the subtlety and mystery of what is to come. Hopefully you will continue to enjoy.

Here I am going to introduce you to Chapter One. I originally wrote it with the hope to publish (Bethesda never responded to my request, but at least I tried!), so in the introduction of the first chapter, I went into a great deal of description of the Shivering Isles and the Realm of Madness, with the idea that people who have never played the game might read the book, and they would deserve to have some understanding of the Realm right from the start. I will assume everyone here has played Oblivion and the Shivering Isles, though, so I will skip the greater part of Chapter One, and spare you the "niggling little details," as Sheogorath would put it. So, in the first chapter, Syl introduces us to her family and mentions some important details concerning her birth and her early childhood. There are some key events that helped to shape the child Syl and prepare her for becoming the young woman Syl.

For those who haven't been to the Shivering Isles, I have included links to some screenshots, courtesy the UESP wiki:

http://images.uesp.net//8/88/V7_Shivering_Isles_Map.jpg

http://images.uesp.net//8/87/SI-place-Dementia.jpg

http://images.uesp.net//f/f9/SI-place-Mania.jpg

http://images.uesp.net//6/6c/SI-place-New_Sheoth.jpg

http://images.uesp.net/2/20/SI-place-Palace_of_Sheogorath.jpg

And so, without further ado, I give you: Chapter 1.1--Born in the Realm of Madness

The Shivering Isles is a world like no other; a place of unsurpassed beauty and scores of adventures. It is the Realm of Lord Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness—His creation and His crowning achievement. The Isles are, in a word, breathtaking. From the high mountainous lands of Mania, to the low treacherous swamps of Dementia, the Shivering Isles are filled with exotic plant-life and dangerous creatures that exist nowhere else in all the universe. With the primitive frog-like men called grummites, to the daedric monsters known as hungers, the Isles are a diverse world of men and mer, creatures and daedra, and unique flora. But with all this diversity exists little harmony, for the Shivering Isles is a realm divided.

It was into this world of division and madness that I was born, late in the year during the colder months of winter. I was born to Lord Gelebor, the Duke of Dementia, and his consort, Lady Adrial, and I was given the ancient elven name Syl, which means “faerie,” because I was always very tiny, even from birth. I was told by my mother that when she first saw me the day I was born, she had remarked that I looked like a little faerie, and so my name was set.

My mother was descended from ancient elven royalty, and her line could be traced back. My father had a similar heritage, but because he was born in the Realm, unlike my mother, his could not be traced. But both of them were Bosmer; Wood Elves, as we are called in the Tamriellic tongue that has become most prevalent, even in the Realm of Madness. My mother, being from Valenwood, taught me the elven language growing up, and we spoke both languages in our family life.

My father, Lord Gelebor, was a subject of great confusion for me growing up; for, as kind and doting as he was to me, he could be equally cruel and hateful to others. His enemies never knew the meaning of mercy, and even his friends did not wish to displease him, for fear of facing his wrath.

One of my earliest memories was of my father exacting his revenge upon a former friend and courtier who had insulted him. I never did find out what the man had done to deserve his punishment, but I clearly remember my horror as I watched the man being dealt with in the House of Dementia’s torture chamber.

I was in my sixth year, curious and full of mischief, as are most elves at such a tender age. My governess had become distracted, gossiping with one of the other servants, and I took the opportunity to slip away in search of adventure. There wasn’t much to do in the House of Dementia, and even at that age, my father insisted that most of my time be taken up with studying. So, naturally, I found great joy in escaping from my rather tedious and boring duties to use my natural ability to sneak through the shadowed corridors of the palace unseen.

It was my keen sense of hearing which alerted me to the agonizing cries rising up from the torture chamber—a grim and forbidding room of the palace which, up until that day, I had never seen. Alarmed but ever-curious, I could not resist sneaking down the stairs, ducking in the shadows when I heard one of the Dark Seducers on patrol nearby. When she had passed, I continued down with caution, and peered through the partially open door of my father’s torture chamber.

Seeing the man in chains, screaming and crying and begging for mercy as my father did unspeakable things to him, I gasped quietly and stood there and continued watching, riveted by the horrifying scene. Never had I seen so much blood. Never had I witnessed such a cruel fate as that man’s. And never had I known that my beloved Ada was capable of doing such terrible things.

It was only when I felt someone grab my tiny shoulder and pull at me that I finally managed to turn away from that scene. I let out a terrified scream, but was hushed quickly by Muurine, my Altmer governess.

“Shh…Hush, child,” she whispered. “You are not supposed to be here. Come—return to your chamber at once.”

Muurine towered over me, being High Elf, and when I was a girl she had long dark hair that was almost black. As I grew up, Muurine, who was over four-hundred years old, began to lose that color in her hair, and by now she has more white and grey in it. But she is still very beautiful, and like all mer, she has aged gracefully. I have always admired her, for many reasons.

http://cdn5.movieclips.com/fox/e/ever-after-1998/0165058_18633_MC_Tx360.jpg

Muurine was a necromancer, and my parents had given her the added task of teaching me all the schools of magicka, as well as many of the other things I was expected to learn as a lady of Dementia’s court. Necromancy never interested me, as I could never get over my disgust and fear of corpses, but I learned everything else Muurine taught me with ease. I was a very good student, and Muurine often praised me for my “sharp wit and inquisitive mind,” and my parents were very proud, though I would never become the talented mage they had hoped I would be.

My first lesson in necromancy was when I was nine years old. My father had wanted me to start sooner, but my mother refused to let me be taught such things so young. Muurine took me to her house in Crucible, which she shared with her uncle, Leo, and the first thing that struck me when we entered her bedchamber on the second floor was the most horrid stench I had ever smelled in my life. When I looked around the room, it didn’t take very long for me to realize what it was I smelled—there were bloodstains, both fresh and dry, and body parts strewn about the chamber, everywhere except by the bed. I was horrified, but Muurine seemed completely unaffected by the sight, not at all surprised, and I wondered if this was what her bedchamber normally looked like.

As she began to bring me into the chamber, holding my hand, she explained, “This is my workplace, as well as my bedchamber. This house isn’t very big, of course, so I have to use this space for multiple things….”

She was about to say more, but that’s when I noticed a partially decomposed corpse lying in a corner, blood all over his unclothed body. I let out the most horrified scream, startling Muurine entirely, as she had not been expecting such a reaction.

“What in Oblivion, child? What’s wrong?”

“I-It’s…a dead man,” I answered, my eyes wide with shock as I pointed to it.

Muurine hardly reacted the way I had expected; she just looked at me without any thought, and answered simply, “Yes, I know.”

When she saw me trembling and unable to speak anymore, she let out a sigh, and said, “Look, Syl, you will just have to get used to these kinds of things. You’re a Demented child, for Sheogorath’s sake. It’s no wonder your parents have been so embarrassed by you, if you react this way just from seeing a corpse. What do you think necromancy is all about? Come now. We must begin your lesson. Your father is eager that you should learn the dark arts. There is no time to waste, child.”

She was completely unsympathetic to my fear of corpses, but that was not unusual in my case. None of the Demented had been sympathetic to me for it, but I had thought that perhaps Muurine would be. She had been with me from the time I was weaned, and she was like a second mother to me. In fact, I would say I was closer to Muurine than I have ever been to anyone in my entire life—even my mother.

My mother, who was always loving and dear to me, often became my father’s source for relieving his frustrations, and his abuse of her haunted me painfully as I was growing up. Not a day went by when my father did not find cause to beat her, and he didn’t care who was around to see it. Even with his excuses, I never understood why he was so cruel to her, for she never seemed to really deserve such brutality. But my father was never to be questioned, and I was too young to have courage enough to stand up for my mother against his fury.

It also became apparent to me then that my father was never faithful to my mother. It had never occurred to me why my mother slept with me in the chamber I shared with Muurine, instead of with my father, until the day I saw him in his private garden with one of the chamber maids. I was at an age where I still did not understand why I was not allowed simply to go visit my father in his quarters at any time, and I had not yet seen him that day, so I was eager to spend time with him. But when I went into the garden, I saw him standing before a young Breton woman with rust-colored hair. They were speaking in hushed voices, and I saw that the front of her bodice was loosened.

When my father reached out to touch her cheek and began kissing her, I turned and fled, embarrassed and ashamed. I suppressed my tears and tried not to let it bother me, but it hurt me to know that my father was keeping company with the maids in the palace, instead of with his wife, my dear mother. I didn’t understand it, for my mother was a very beautiful woman, with golden hair and soft blue eyes. I always wanted to look like her, but I would never be blessed with her fine golden locks. Instead, I had my father’s brown hair, so dark it was almost black. My eyes were more like my mother’s, a soft shade of blue; but mine were more intense than hers, likely due to my passionate nature, for which I was often chided.

My father was strict and he would not tolerate disobedience from anyone. He was an imposing presence, stern, and tall for a Wood Elf. Even the largest and strongest of men feared my father. His thundering voice left many terrified and trembling. His dark eyes were always cold and hard—except when he looked at me. I was my father’s pride and joy, and he loved me like no other. He was the one who always called me Syl Aranel, meaning faerie princess, and he gave me everything I desired, except the one thing I desired above all else—freedom. But he was always there for me, and any who might dare to cross me better beware.

Though I had often seen my father’s dark side growing up, with me he was kind and loving, only hard when he needed to be, and never cruel. He was very dear to me, and I trusted him always. All my life I always called him Ada, which is the endearing form of the elven word for father, Adar; so, it may come as a surprise to some of you that I ever became Duchess of Dementia at all—for, the way to the throne was not my birthright, nor my heritage. It was a position given to those who had earned the Madgod’s favor, and anyone was eligible to take control of one of the ruling Houses. How I came to sit on the throne I’ll not go into now, but I will say this much—I did not inherit the throne from my father, as that never happened in Dementia. There was a lot more involved than that, and it was always very bloody.

My parents did not raise me to take over as the ruler of Dementia, but I was still well-acquainted with the customs and functions of court life. I had been given every luxury available to a Demented girl, and Ada gave me everything I asked for. Perhaps I was spoiled; I have been accused of it, though I never believed it. But court life was not always perfect and exciting, as those of the lower classes might think. There was much expected of me as a proper young lady, and at times my life became quite tedious and boring, and I wanted badly to escape from it when I was younger.

Even as a child, I was dressed every day in only the finest clothes, always in darker colors. The Demented have never worn anything bright, like the Maniacs have always preferred, but we do not only wear black all the time. My favorite color to wear in my youth was always crimson, the only bright color accepted in Dementia, due to its blood-like appearance; but as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate black much more thoroughly.

Living as I did in the palace, I rarely ever got to play with children my own age. In fact, I hardly ever got to play at all, and I was given only half an hour each afternoon to play on the palace grounds under Muurine’s supervision. I was not allowed to have friends, as my parents were always wary of most everyone around them, but as I approached adolescence, that would begin to change. Once I started blossoming into a young woman, that changed very rapidly, and I attracted many admirers.

My mother spent many afternoons with me in my quarters, and she was a light in my life for most of my childhood years. She always encouraged me to follow my heart, and she told me to never let any man control my life and take everything away from me. I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, as I was too young and naïve to comprehend it. Because of that, I had to learn to follow her advice the hard way. It seems I learned a lot of lessons the hard way, but such is life. Muurine always said, when I would tearfully ask why things were so difficult, “what have you learned when times were good, dear?” She taught me that all life is suffering, but that suffering makes us both stronger and wiser, if we will allow ourselves to learn from it. In Dementia, such a philosophy is often taken to the extreme, as physical pain is commonly used as a means of cleansing the body and purifying the soul. It is not uncommon for the Demented to physically harm themselves; and it can be very gratifying to our twisted minds.

Posted by: mALX Apr 5 2011, 04:36 PM

What a powerful insight into Syl's early years !! (And into living in the Realm of Madness!) Your ability to transform words into visual images is amazing !! Great Write !!!

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 5 2011, 05:00 PM

I really enjoyed the part with Muurine and her Uncle Leo. How nice to see the groundwork for that laid so early on! Muurine being Syl's magic teacher was a brilliant idea. Likewise Syl's aversion to corpses is a good piece of character-building. It reminds me of Himmler, who nearly fainted at the sight of a mass execution.



nits:
Please do not see all this as being antagonistic. I think you have some real talent. But you have fallen into some of the most common traps of beginning writers. I offer up the following critique in the hope that it will help you improve your writing.


I see one major issue with most of the piece, you are telling us all this rather than showing us. You avoided it with the part where Muurine took Syl to her house, and we saw it for the first time through Syl's eyes. That was excellent showing. But the remainder of the piece is mostly telling it all to us.

For example, you tell us that her father sleeps around. It would have been better to give us a scene where Syl sees a young hottie make the walk of shame from his room, still putting her clothes back on. Then he comes out a few minutes later.

The other thing that comes with telling, is that you gave us a big infodump on Syl's past. We really do not need to know any of that to start with. Worse, nothing turns off a reader than an infodump at the start of a piece (or anywhere else in it). It is far better to slowly reveal these things as the story progresses. Let them slow out naturally as we see Syl going about her daily life. For example, rather than tell us that as a Bosmer she has better sight, hearing and agility that others, give us a scene where she uses these advantages, hearing someone's whispers, noticing something in the dark, catching a ball suddenly thrown at her, etc...

It is good to have all this background information in your character notes. That way you can build a cohesive, and rich, story. But think of it as an iceberg. The reader should only see the tip of it at one time. Never all of it at once.


Now on to some more specific things I noted:

on the 16th of Evening Star in the year 370 of the 3rd Era. The sign of the Warrior guides my path,
This strikes me as being strange. Why would the Shivering Isles keep Imperial Eras? Or Months and dates. We known the Greymarch happens every thousand years, and wipes the slate clean of everything. Only a few ruins remain from the time before the previous march. All history is lost, as no one in the current period even recalls that there was a Greymarch a thousand years before. It is only hinted at in one of the game http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Shivering:The_Predecessors.

Plus since their sky is completely different from that of Nirn, it also seems unlikely that their star signs, if there were any at all, would be the same.

I realize that creating an entirely new calendar is a lot of work, as well as starsigns, but perhaps it would have been better to simply leave these things out entirely instead?

The Demented have never worn anything bright, like the Maniacs have always preferred, but we do not only wear black all the time. My favorite color to wear in my youth was always crimson,
http://www.html-color-names.com/crimson.php seems rather bright. Perhaps something more like rust, or maroon would work better?


Even as a child, I was dressed every day in only the finest clothes, always in darker colors. The Demented have never worn anything bright, like the Maniacs have always preferred, but we do not only wear black all the time. My favorite color to wear in my youth was always crimson, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate black much more thoroughly.
When I was a child, my governess, an Altmer named Muurine, would brush my hair every morning for half an hour before putting it up in a simple girlish style. Muurine was quite tall, being High Elf, and when I was a girl she had long dark hair that was almost black. As I grew up, Muurine, who was over four-hundred years old, began to lose that color in her hair, and by now she has more white and grey in it. But she is still very beautiful, and like all mer, she has aged gracefully. I have always admired her, for many reasons.
The forum ate the space between your two paragraphs here. That can happen when you copy and paste from a word processor.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 5 2011, 05:19 PM

SubRosa: Your advice is welcome and appreciated. (And thanks for pointing out the spot where the space was neglected--I will go back and fix it right away.)

As far as the telling, yes, I see what you mean. I guess in chapter one I'm still sort of introducing a lot that you are right about me probably not needing to do. Thanks for the tips. But I will let you know that as chapter one continues, and then through the rest of the story, /i do move away from telling the story to actually showing it. The reason I'm telling here is that I was concerned about making the story too long, and I wanted to sort of skip most of her childhood, to keep it from getting too lengthy. But Chapter Two will also cover part of her childhood, with more of the story actually being shown.

The star signs--yes, I suppose it would be different in the Isles, and probably isn't necessary to have in the story. I never thought of that, I guess, and I got a little confused about whether or not the daedric realms would use such a system or not. I will keep this in mind for the future and make any necessary changes.

Crimson, I guess, is not quite the right word to use for the color. Maybe it should have been more like maroon or burgundy. At the the same time, I think of crimson as being the color of blood, which is why it would be acceptable to the demented, but perhaps I should have worded that differently, then, to explain this.

Tell me what you think of the changes?

mALX: Thank you for the compliments. I am glad you have enjoyed it thus far, and I hope you will continue to do so.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 5 2011, 09:16 PM

That does look better. I looked back through the books you can find in the SI, and I found that not one ever mentions years, months, or dates. So Bethesda went to a lot of trouble to avoid the issue. Rather painfully so in some cases.

You might consider going back and completely re-writing that post, and perhaps some of the other ones with more telling. One of the blessings to migrating to a new forum is that it gives you an opportunity to do some retooling. Both Acadian and I took full advantage of this when we brought out tales over here from the Beth forums. Sometimes removing large chunks of the old story, and other times adding on even larger pieces of entirely new material. Mine probably doubled in size when it came here, given all the new stuff I added. But even the old parts all got reworked. Thanks to that, it is a much better story than it was over at Beth.

It is your story though. So while I might offer advice, it is only advice. Do what you feel is right for the story. Your name is at the top after all.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 5 2011, 09:47 PM

Well, if no one minds the story getting a little longer, I don't mind adding more to it. I was trying to keep it short before only because of my original intention to publish. But I suppose if it's not being published, I can expand on it. There are many ideas I had already, but the fear of making it too long for Bethesda to want anything to do with it had me trying to shorten it.

I would love to do a reworking of it, as you said, and I think I will take advantage of it. Thanks again for the advice.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 5 2011, 11:03 PM

Make it as long as you want it to be. The great thing about writing on a forum like this, is that you can write for its own sake. Not only is it personally satisfying, but it is also wonderful practice. My own writing has improved dramatically since I started TotFS. I have seen similar improvements in many others as well.

Plus, the longer you make it, the more the rest of us have to enjoy. Ooops, Foxy is going to love that line!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 5 2011, 11:38 PM

All right, done and done! I have gone through chapter one and rewritten it, changing the order of some things, removing some things which were unnecessary, and adding a little more actual "scenes" to it. Although much of it is the same, it is better than my original. Hopefully you will agree.

I've pasted it over the original above.

Posted by: Grits Apr 6 2011, 12:13 AM

I love the changes! I haven’t played SI, and the description you gave at the beginning set the scene for me. The snippets from her childhood really come alive now. We can feel her embarrassment and shame at seeing her Ada in the garden with the maid, for example.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 6 2011, 12:17 AM

Thanks! Yes, after SubRosa gave me those tips, I took some time to think about how I would change it and got to work right away. I agree that it does come alive more after the changes, and I am much more satisfied with it now. After going over it again, I also noticed that before it was not very well organized--it seemed like I jumped around too much, but I used this opportunity to organize it better so it flows more smoothly. I appreciate all the feedback, and thank you for taking the time to read my story and comment on it.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 6 2011, 02:24 AM

Yay, another tiny wood elf!! She probably suffers from a chronic sore neck like my elf does - http://i668.photobucket.com/albums/vv43/Acadian6/Cho%20Bk%201/ScreenShot796.jpg

We learn a great deal about our little fairie here, and I can see already you have a wonderful way of working with the mentality that one might find in the isles to make it come to life. I am greatly enjoying learning about Syl.

You had completed your edits by the time I read this, so I cannot compare it to the original. I will say that it does weave some 'showing' to break up the large amount of background that you cover here.

I heartily agree with SubRosa that you should not be afraid to expand with detail and linger as you wish. Realize that 'showing', particularly when amplified by lots of dialogue can require a very large amount of text to cover ground. Sometimes 'telling' is effective for quickly covering a large amount of ground when required. This can be helpful if a more detailed 'showing' of the material would become tedious or repetitive. Sometimes a detailed 'showing' of a few key snips is the answer. A mix is what we generally use, but 'showing' is always the most dynamic and immersive to read. Generally you want to really rely on 'showing' for scenes that you want to be particularly powerful or memorable.

I also endorse the recommendation to view your already posted elsewhere episodes as rough drafts for your current version as we are always learning and improving. Similar to SubRosa, the original 69 episodes of Buffy's story that formed the basis for what is here at chorrol grew to 101 episodes and I am almost into completely new material now. The revision dropped a few things and added a great deal. I now view Buffy's story as simply the neverending tale of her life - and elves live a long time. Speaking of my own story, let me thank you for reading it. I am so enjoying the insights you are providing!

When working with your older episodes, don’t feel attached to any length cutoff points you may have had. That is, don't let long episodes simply grow. Don't be afraid to break them into post-sized pieces. As we have discussed, most of us find 1000-2000 words to be about ideal for a single post or episode.

I am so pleased that you have joined us and are hopefully finding the warm support and encouragement of like-minded writers here that seems missing at the other forum.


Nit- The Shivering Isles is a world like no other; a place of unsurpassed beauty and scores of adventure.
Mixing plural (scores) and singular (adventure) at the end of this. Perhaps: 'scores of adventures' or 'abundant adventure' or maybe even 'unsurpassed beauty and adventure'.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 6 2011, 03:52 PM

Acadian--Thank you very much for your encouragement and advice--and also for pointing out the mixed plural/singular in the first sentence. I went back and fixed it right away.

And yes, Syl certainly knows what that's like, craning her neck to look up at all those towering Altmer and Nords and Imperials! I loved the picture; thank you for sharing it.

All--I am overjoyed at my warm reception, as well as the willingness of my readers to help me make my writing the best it can possibly be. I welcome all the advice, corrections, and questions that you may have, and I thank you for taking the time to come and learn Syl's story. I will thoroughly enjoy our time together here in Chorrol.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 7 2011, 03:55 AM

Chapter 1.2--The Unwanted Surprise

My father took a new mistress a few months before my tenth birthday, and my mother seemed more distressed than she had even been before, though I didn’t understand it at the time. She often cried herself to sleep at night, while I lay in bed, holding her and trying to help her feel peace. I was her only source of comfort and joy at this point, as my father’s hatred of her had become quite apparent. She confided in me often, though I was perhaps too young to hear so many of the things that she told me. She had no one else to talk to about her feelings, though, for all of her friends had abandoned her. Muurine was the only person she considered a friend anymore, but she knew better than to confide in her, as Muurine always had a love for gossip.

In those days, my mother had become much more depressed and paranoid. She trusted only me, and was certain that everyone else was out to get her, for whatever reason. I didn’t understand it, why she was always so fearful. To me the world was exciting and new, but to her it had become a living nightmare. Gone was the beautiful and loving mother I had always known. Now she was worn out, disheveled, and agitated. She rarely even left my quarters anymore, and every sudden noise made her jump from fright. She trembled when in my father’s presence, and she was always nervous and fidgety. She had hallucinations at times, and she would mumble constantly to herself about someone named Ceridwen, who she had apparently wronged, but it would be many years before I understood what that was all about.

Sometimes my mother would tell me that we were living in a terrible place, and that we needed to get out of the Realm, and return to her home in Valenwood, where she had grown up. This was a terrifying thought to me, as I had known only the Realm, and I longed to be nowhere else, even as a child. I thought my mother was speaking nonsense, but I always stayed by her side, holding her hand and pretending to understand what she was talking about.

“They are coming for me, Syl,” she said one day, looking very seriously into my eyes and tightly gripping my arms. “Do you understand me, girl? They are coming for all of us! We have to get out before it’s too late. We have to escape…. Promise me you won’t let them take you, Syl. Promise me!”

“I promise, Mama,” I tearfully replied, just wanting her to stop saying such horrible things. Though I thought she was only talking nonsense, a part of me was genuinely terrified that what she was saying might be true.

By this point, my father pretty much ignored my mother altogether. He spent most of his free time with Alanwen, who was much younger than mother, and also very clever. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and he hardly even noticed me when she started coming around. I became jealous of the attentions he paid to her, as I had never been ignored by my father before. But I believed she knew what she was doing, and I disliked her intensely. She would smile and wink at me in what I took to be a conniving and victorious manner, as my father went off to his quarters with her, instead of spending his breaks with me as before.

With my mother’s fearful ranting about Alanwen, I began to wonder if she wasn’t out to get us after all. If she could get rid of us, she would have my father all to herself; and she was insanely jealous whenever he did choose to spend time with me instead of with her. That’s when I would give her a little wink and a smile, the same way she always did to me. If looks could kill, I’d have dropped dead right then and there, for Alanwen hated me intensely in those moments.

Alanwen and I actually started competing for my father’s attentions, and I began very quickly to win more often than she did. That just went to show that no woman could ever come between me and Ada. I was the number one girl in his life, and nothing could ever change that. Sure, as I got older, we had our ups and downs; but overall, my father never abandoned me, and he was my hero. I trusted him completely then, even though I didn’t always agree with him, and I knew that he would never do anything deliberate to hurt me.

What did hurt me to see, though, was the way he treated my mother. When she was having one of what I termed her ‘episodes,’ sometimes she would go to my father and plead with him to “get rid of that witch,” meaning Alanwen. She also begged him to give her a Dark Seducer to guard her, as she was certain that her life was in danger. My father was very unsympathetic to her, and he would only push her away and tell her to go back to “hiding in Syl’s quarters.” He would only beat her if she continued to pester him, which she very often did when she was in that state.

It pained me to see such displays between my beloved parents, and I was torn between them both. I would sometimes pull at my mother’s hand, begging her to leave my father alone and come back to my chamber with me. When she didn’t listen, my father would send me away while he punished her for her “stubborn disobedience.” I would obey, but I always watched from the corridor, unable to pull myself away, my heart breaking with every blow he gave to her. Then, when my father was finished, he always went to his quarters to recover with Alanwen, and I would run back out to my mother, who was crumpled on the floor, beaten and too weak to get up on her own.

I helped her to my quarters, where she would lie on the bed and curl up into a ball to sob like a child. I could not heal her with magicka, as at this time my magical abilities were limited to only healing myself, and very little at that point. But seeing my mother injured and uncaring enough to heal herself made me eager to develop the ability to heal others, and it was in this way that I was quite skilled. I never worked so hard to develop my own healing abilities, and few people know this, but I am better at healing others than I am at healing myself. She was my inspiration in this way, and it has been very useful to me at times. If only I had been able to save her.

For my tenth birthday, my father decided at the last minute that he wanted to take me out for the day, just the two of us (and the Dark Seducer bodyguards that accompanied him everywhere). We went out riding in the countryside together on the most beautiful black mares in all the Shivering Isles. Horses were a rarity in the Isles, and only the wealthy could afford to keep them. But we did have some around back then, until our Lord decided that he no longer cared to have horses in His Realm, for reasons that were never made entirely clear. We rode freely through Dementia, though we never strayed from the roads, while the four female Dark Seducers ran behind us at a steady pace to keep up.

Let me take this moment to explain something, to any who may not actually be from the Isles. Most of the http://images.uesp.net//3/39/SI-npc-Female_Dark_Seducer.jpg and http://images.uesp.net//8/8d/SI-npc-Aurmazl_Zudeh.jpg are actually female. Males in their culture are much rarer, and also less desired, than the females. When I speak of the Mazken and the Aureals, most likely they are females, unless I say otherwise. Males are regarded as being less dependent and mostly useless in their culture, and the females hold all the highest ranks and the best positions. Why this is, I do not know, but I have never seen finer warriors than the females I have fought with in battle…

My father and I rode to Ashwood, a beautiful and exotic city in the south of Dementia that has long since been destroyed, and we were greeted there with much Dementia-styled fanfare. Everyone recognized right away that the Duke was in their midst, and their attitude toward him seemed to be one of great reverence. I never saw any other attitude toward my father, except when there were assassination attempts on him, but I never understood that because I had never seen anything but admiration from his people. I assumed, as a child, that my father was well-liked by the people of Dementia, but I would come to learn that their praises of him were merely pretense. In truth, my father was greatly despised by his people, because most of them were starving and unhappy under his rule. He did little toward the good of Dementia, and spent most of his time amusing himself with women and indulging his skooma habit. If you’ve seen Crucible in its current state, you’d be surprised to hear that it was much worse when my father reigned as the Duke of Dementia.

When we climbed off our horses in Ashwood, he took me by the hand and led me to the Great Tower of Ashwood. The Great Tower was the tallest building in Dementia, not including New Sheoth Palace. Inside the tower was a large chamber, with stairs that wound around up to the top, and it was open to the roof almost like a lighthouse. There were lookout platforms at the top, and from there one could look out across the whole of the land and far into the endless sea. It was a sight to behold, especially to a child, and I was left in awe.

After that, we went to the dressmaker’s shop where my father surprised me when he ordered a new dress to be made for me that very day. I picked out a deep crimson taffeta, and I wanted it lined with black lace, and I felt like a princess being able to have a new dress just like that. I wasn’t aware that the reason the dressmaker was able to make a new dress so quickly was that she and her seamstresses had to put all other orders on hold to finish mine by the time that was specified by my father, or they would have been imprisoned in the dungeon in the House of Dementia and whipped for their incompetence.

While we waited for the dress to be made, he took me to the public garden in the centre of Ashwood. It was beautiful there, with lush greens and perfect flowers. An exotic wooden bridge crossed the lily-pad covered pond to a gazebo on a small island in the centre. I loved every minute of it. Father watched me with a smile on his face as I talked and laughed and played. I knew that he loved me, and that I would never lose him. I was the sparkle in his eye, and I never felt more beautiful and more worthy than when he looked at me that day.

At the end of the day, with my new dress neatly wrapped in paper and tied with string, we headed back to New Sheoth. It had been one of the best days of my life, and I thought that nothing could shatter that perfect day for me. I rode with a smile, talking about how much I loved my new dress, and I couldn’t wait to wear it at the party that evening. Mama was going to be so proud when she saw me in my beautiful new dress, and she had promised me that morning that she was going to have a wonderful surprise for me at the party that night.

When we got back to the palace, I took my dress from the Dark Seducer who had carried it, and I ran to my bedchamber, eager to unwrap it so that Mama could see. Father called after me, telling me to wait, and not to go to my bedchamber just yet, but I simply couldn’t wait to show Mama, so I disobeyed and pretended not to hear him calling. He would forgive me just this once, I decided, because it was my birthday. I giggled as I ran down the corridor, thinking how much fun it was to be a little disobedient, and knowing that this time I could get away with it.

When I threw open the door to my chamber, I saw my mother standing there in the middle of the room, and I started telling her about my dress. But she didn’t respond, and she looked at me with an empty gaze, and then she slowly disappeared. That’s when I realized that what I had seen was not what I had thought. All my life, I had always seen things that others couldn’t, and this was the very same thing. My smile faded and I dropped the paper-wrapped dress, feeling my stomach wrench as I noticed the body on the bed. It was Mama, and she was sprawled across the bed in an unnatural position; her eyes were partially open, and her arm hung off the side. On the floor nearby was a silver goblet, with a small amount of wine still lingering inside where it could not leak out with the rest, which had likely soaked into the deep purple rug that rested beneath it.

My father had been chasing after me, but he stopped when he saw me there, staring into the room at my mother’s pale and lifeless body. I was frozen in terror. I didn’t need to venture into the room any further to see that my mother was dead. Then all at once, I let out the most fearful and miserable scream and ran down the corridor to my father. I fell into his arms, screaming and sobbing while he held me tightly and asked me what I’d seen. I was certain he hadn’t known what I was going to find, but Alanwen stood behind him, staring at me with a look on her face I could not decipher. But I was certain she had something to do with it, and I began screaming and pointing in her direction, telling my father that she had killed my mother. But father wouldn’t believe what I was saying, and he took me away very quickly while the Seducers and servants went in to clean up the body. Alanwen just stood there, emotionless, staring at me the whole time; I was sure that I was next.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 7 2011, 04:34 PM

Simply fantastic! I love this look into Syl's childhood, and the very dysfunctional nature of her family. It is just what I would expect not only from the Shivering Isles, but especially from the ruling house of Dementia. Even here we can see the seeds of paranoia being planted in Syl's mind. Plus her mother's very oblique reference to the Greymarch was excellent!

until our Lord decided that he no longer cared to have horses in His Realm, for reasons that were never made entirely clear.
I love this explanation for the lack of horses!

The first part is outdone by the second half, showing us Syl's birthday with her father. I have to say that before they even returned, I got the impression that her mother had been murdered, and that was the reason that her Father took her to Ashwood. Syl seeing her mother's ghost was excellent, and drawing the conclusion that Alanwen was responsible. Now I cannot wait to see what is next!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 7 2011, 09:15 PM

WARNING: WALL OF TEXT INCOMING!!

SubRosa touched on it before, but it bears repeating. The mistake that you are making with this first chapter is that you are treating it just like the prologue. We already heard Syl speaking from an 'Undisclosed Location in the Shivering Isles.' I know you want to go through Syl’s childhood quickly to get to the meat of the story, but simply telling us about events and how she feels about them does the character (and the reader) a disservice.

Chapter 1.1:

First off, specificity, you need to focus your story. You have a tendency to jump around quite a bit in relaying the events of Syl’s childhood. The paragraph that begins with . . .

That is your opening! Nothing written before that can hold a candle to this sentence of a dozen words! It draws us in and establishes everything we need to know about Syl and the strangeness of the Isles without having to explain anything to us. I loved every part of her ‘necromancy lesson’, but then you abandoned it so that Syl could spend the next nine paragraphs telling us about her mother’s abuse, her father’s infidelity, her own dress and play habits, and the violent politics of Dementia. All of these things would be better served by allowing us to see them occur over the course of a day, or even a single afternoon.

Check it:



Chapter 1.2

Again, you need to focus the events of the chapter into a specific moment in time so that we as readers can see what is occurring without Syl having to tell us. Alanwen should walk around the palace like she owns the place, having firmly established herself as Lady Adrial’s replacement. Syl’s hatred of the woman should be felt in the palpable tension that exists in the palace halls. Not only does Lady Adrial confine herself to quarters, she confines herself to Syl’s quarters! Syl and Muurine are the only people to whom she will speak, and her speech has become increasingly erratic (even for Dementia). The dialogue that you have here, when she says: “They are coming for me Syl,” is great! But instead of ‘she would sometimes say’, just have her say it. As readers we need immediacy. Things that ‘would’ happen never have the same impact as things that ‘are’ happening.

Competition between Syl and Alanwen for the affections of Lord Gelebor should take concrete form. How do they compete exactly? We need a scene with them doing so (perhaps you could even open this section of the chapter with it, because such an opening would establish their enmity towards each other and create the tension within the palace).

The events of the second part of this chapter are very specific and absolutely terrific! My only advice here is to take the indelible scene in the public garden and use that same level of detail for their ride through Crucible and into Ashwood. Syl telling us that her father was despised doesn’t carry the same impact as her seeing the looks given to them by the citizenry. I would also suggest that you actually give us the dialogue when Syl comes into her chamber to tell her mother about the new dress.

I think you have the makings of a fantastic novel here! The problem, as I see it, is that Syl is too far removed from her own story. Let her nine/ten year old self carry the action. Get her in there, and get her dirty!

Posted by: mALX Apr 7 2011, 10:29 PM

GAAAAH !!! Cliffhanging ending, riveting story so far !! Your attention to detail makes for a very powerful read, as does your great storyline !!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 8 2011, 12:14 AM

SubRosa: Thank you for your compliments. I am glad you found it to be more captivating. It's a slow start, I think, but it gets better as Syl gets past the early childhood and moves into the aftermath of her mother's death, and her adolescence.... Hopefully I will continue to make my story work for all of you.

Destri: Thank you very much for your imput. I do see what you are saying, and I will go back over it and take a look to see how I can incorporate your suggestions into the story better. I've already gone back to that part with Syl's mother warning her about wanting to leave the Isles, and I made it present-tense, rather than "she would say..." I like your suggestions, and I will try to work on them to make it better so that Syl can be more part of her story. But also, don't forget that some removal from her tale would be expected, as it is Syl writing her memoirs, long after most of these events occurred. So, there would be some part of her, probably mostly due to her madness, that would be detached from her past. I will try to do better, though, so you will hopefully continue to read and enjoy Syl's story.

mALX: Thanks! Yes, I'm a pretty detail-oriented person. And yes, a cliffhanger. I love cliff-hangers, and whenever I am able to end on one, I am pretty thrilled because I like to leave my readers on the edge of their seats and anxious for more! Unfortunately for all of you, many of the secrets that are hinted at early on will not be revealed in full for quite some time. They'll eventually fall into the back of your mind, and then when the time comes and you discover the hidden truth, you'll remember those hints (hopefully) and be like, OMG!!! At least, that is my intention...

Posted by: Acadian Apr 8 2011, 01:00 AM

There are two distinct parts to this episode (1.2).

The first part is competent and spells out much of Syl's family history. The word memoire does indeed come to mind. Somewhat historical, covers lots of ground.

The second part is exciting because we feel as if we are right there with our ten year old farie princess sharing her beautiful day that is laced with dark innuendo, then ends in a tragedy that pulls at our heartstrings.

A special salute regarding Alanwen. You project volumes about her based simply on those 'looks' she exchanges with Syl. Fabulously effective and her mysteriousness contributes strongly to the unique feel for the SI you are giving us.

Throughout, you infuse a deliciously foreboding and ominous feeling that seems so very appropriate for a girl from Dementia. I am so enjoying this wonderful story and am so glad you are bringing it to us!

Nit: Let me take this moment to explain something, to any who many not actually be from the Isles.
I'm sure you want 'may' instead of 'many'.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 8 2011, 04:22 PM

Acadian: Thank you so much. I don't want to get too repetitive, but I appreciate all of your help and encouragement. It is so refreshing to find so many like-minded people here.

Also, thank you for pointing this out to me. I had not noticed it, but I will fix it right away.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 8 2011, 09:41 PM

Chapter 2.1--Unsolved Mysteries

The death of my mother hit me very hard, especially because it had occurred on my birthday and I had been the one to find her. The reason for her death was not explained to me, but the others apparently knew and they were all very quiet about it when I was around.

The day after her death, I was walking to my chamber when I overheard some servants gossiping about it. “Such a shame,” one of them was saying. “I would never have expected such a thing. And that poor little girl, left without a mother…. It’s tragic.”

The other servant huffed, and replied, “She wasn’t much of a mother or a wife, always hiding in her daughter’s chamber, as if she was safe nowhere else. And then, to do this--I’d say the Duke and his daughter are better off!”

Seeing me standing in the corridor as they walked by, the other servant shushed her, and they changed the subject quickly, after giving me a nod and acting like they had nothing to hide. It was always like that when I was around, and I wondered why everyone was being so secretive about my mother’s death. I was the one to find her, after all. What did they have to shelter me from?

They didn’t want me to know what happened, but I had my suspicions. My father assured me that Alanwen had nothing to do with my mother’s death, but I simply refused to believe it. Nothing would convince him otherwise, though I challenged him to tell me what they were hiding, if not Alanwen’s guilt.

Instead of answering my questions, he sent me away and refused to talk about it, saying, “Syl, if you knew the reason for your mother’s death, it would only hurt you even more. It is best, for now, if you do not know the details—it will do you no good to know more.”

I couldn’t understand why he wanted to protect a murderess, especially one who would likely try to murder me next, and it bothered me intensely. It was then that our relationship started to become strained, and it would be years before things truly improved.

Had the thought occurred to me that my father had conspired with Alanwen to kill my mother? Certainly. But I knew my father better than that. If he had wanted my mother dead, he would never have killed her on my birthday. He loved me too much to do something like that….

My mother was buried in http://images.uesp.net//2/27/SI-place-New_Sheoth_Graveyard.jpg a couple days following her death, on a cold, wet, and windy Sundas afternoon. The wind blew raindrops from the trees when it had ceased raining, and the roads were thick with mud. It was a gloomy day for a burial, indeed, and I wondered if my inner turmoil had somehow affected it to be that way.

As the High Priest spoke a long sermon about the meaning and purpose of death, and the sorrows of life, my mind wandered. I felt numb inside, and I just stared at the black wooden coffin that was my mother’s final resting place, wondering to myself what it would be like to die.

Movement in a nearby tree caught my eye, and I noticed a raven perched on a branch and watching me closely. I imagined that the bird could sense my loss, and that it had come to the cemetery to lessen my pain. I even imagined hearing the bird’s voice in my head, saying, “Fear not, little child. Death is only the beginning.”

I shuddered and turned my attention back to the High Priest, catching only the end of his sermon, “And now, in our grief, we must bid farewell to this beloved wife and mother, Lady Adrial. May her soul go and not attach itself to this world, but move on to the everlasting void. In Sheogorath’s name, so be it.”

Death was a terrifying prospect to me, if all I had to look forward to was an eternity of darkness and misery, or the empty life of a soul bound to the world and unable to move on. Imagining my beloved mother in such a state brought fresh tears to my eyes, and I buried my face in Muurine’s skirts, while she pulled me close and sighed painfully.

I had noticed little emotion from my father that day, and Alanwen seemed more bored than anything. This only confirmed her guilt, as far as I was concerned, but I excused my father’s lack of emotion by convincing myself he was simply in shock.

The stone that marked my mother’s grave was plain and simple—not the usual for a Duke’s wife—with only her name and the date of her death carved into it. I left a single flower upon her grave, after she was buried; it was a white lily, which was her favorite. Then my father lifted me onto his horse while Alanwen followed riding mine, and we returned to the palace.

Muurine stayed with me constantly after that, doing whatever she could to comfort me. She sat in my chamber with me, holding me tight as I cried myself to sleep every night. It seemed like she was the only person in the whole Realm that could understand my pain, and while I felt like my life had stopped, everyone else moved on as if nothing were changed.

“How can they smile and laugh?” I asked Muurine one day, as I followed her into the city one afternoon. “How can they act as if everything is the same, when nothing can ever be the same anymore?”

“They do not understand what you are going through, child,” she responded, squeezing my hand reassuringly. “They do not know what it is to lose a mother so dear to them. But come along, we mustn’t dawdle.”

Muurine was a shameless gossip, and she spent many an afternoon conversing with friends in Crucible. After my mother’s death, she had no choice but to drag me along to her friend’s homes for tea and the daily gossip. Father allowed it, but we had to be followed by a pair of Seducer bodyguards whenever I left the palace. As I looked back over my shoulder at their towering figures, I wondered if they understood my pain. But their expressions were the same as always, and neither of them offered even a hint of sympathy when I glanced at them.

While Muurine and her friends gossiped over tea, I sat in a corner working on my penmanship and needlepoint—dull and boring work, but Muurine detested idleness, saying it was a sign of laziness and low-breeding. She always said, “Why waste time sitting around and doing nothing, when you could be doing something useful?” I failed to see how needlepoint and gossip were useful tasks, but who was I to argue?

Since the weather was pleasant, Muurine took me out to play on the palace grounds, but it was rather boring having no one my own age to play with. While Muurine talked with one of my father’s courtiers, I sat in the grass and daydreamed, gazing up at the sky with its glittery clouds, admiring the way they sparkled with magenta light among the white puffy mist that composed them. The clouds in the Shivering Isles are unlike any others, so I’ve been told….

My attentions were drawn away from the clouds when I noticed a frog jumping from one stone to another, in search of flies to make into his supper. Giggling, I climbed up and chased after it, hoping to catch it. But the frog managed to evade capture, disappearing into some thick brush and scaring a grasshopper out of hiding. As the grasshopper sprang toward me, I screamed with a rush of excitement and ran to Muurine, hiding myself in her skirts.

Before long, however, I was off again, exploring my small and sheltered world, gasping in amazement as I watched a butterfly come my way. When she perched on my finger to show off her colorful wings, I was left speechless, and I held my breath, not wishing to frighten her away. After the butterfly flitted away to find a flower, I turned to Muurine, and cried, “Muurine! Muurine! Did you see it? Did you see the butterfly?”

“Yes, dear, I saw it,” she said, forcing a smile before returning to her conversation. She could hardly care less.

Sighing and turning away, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman standing off by some trees on the Mania side; she watched me with a strange look on her face, which I could not explain. I had seen her there often, all of my life, but she never attempted to speak to me, and whenever I spotted her, she would move away and appear to have vanished. I could never see her face very clearly, but she reminded me a lot of my mother. I assumed I was only thinking that because of how badly I missed my mother, though, and I pushed it from my mind and continued playing for what little time I had, wondering if she was some sort of ethereal being who was sent to watch over me. I never imagined she could be anything else.

Posted by: mALX Apr 8 2011, 10:34 PM

Holy Cow, there are like three mysteries going on at once here !! GAAAAH !!! I think Muurine is protecting her from whoever killed her mother, and the Dad (or someone) spread it around that she took her own life (but Syl would know that is a lie). Then the raven would be her mother's spirit (and possibly the butterfly too) ... the beautiful woman must be a relative of the mother ... GAAAAH !!! I am probably wrong about everything - but I am LOVING this so far !!!!

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 9 2011, 12:10 AM

he would never have killed her on my birthday. He loved me too much to do something like that…
I just love the wry and twisted outlook in Syl's thought that her father would not murder her mother on her birthday. Any other day to be sure. But not her birthday!

There is one way to know for sure if her mother was murdered or took her own life: if she turns up on the Hill of Suicides.

The raven was a welcome sight. Well, for me at least. I do realize that most other people see them as dark, foreboding figures.

And who is this strange Manic who Syl glimpsed at the Palace? Interesting.

Posted by: Thomas Kaira Apr 9 2011, 01:12 AM

Chapter 1.1:

You paint a very Demented picture of life in Dementia here. THis is the realm of madness, and therefore the normal rules do not apply here. I am quite glad you have grasped that idea so well.

Syl's first practical lesson in necromancy was very sardonic. You have a very good black humor about you that fits the realm perfectly.

I wonder if Syl will grow up to be jsut as masochistic as the rest of Dementia? We already know she is different, and would probably have done better being born in Tamriel, but then that would have been even more boring now, wouldn't it?

Chapter 1.2:

Quite gut-wrenching for Syl to have to learn of her mother's murder on her birthday. It is doubtless to me that her father was the culprit, and I really don't think I want to know what will be going through her head when she discovers her father was responsible. Perhaps this facilitated her descent into madness?

It would seem that it was getting consistently harder and harder for Syl to love her father over the course of this chapter. Still, I'm quite sure that it will not be with glee when she witnesses his inevitable death.

And I also see she fell into the deep trap of attempting to understand the Madgod's decisions! Best not attempt that again, Syl, otherwise your brain will explode.

If it helps, though, horses are to the Madgod what ducks are to the chocolatiers. Having no way to blend their long tails into his world as they reminded him too much of his beard, he presumed the presumption that word assumed that he assumed that they assumed that horses would remind the general populace too much of the Madgod's beard, which is, all things considered, a work of art. Ergo, without the assumptions presuming the presumptions that came after future of the visions of the Madgod, he decided that horses simply were not needed to support the realm's many curtain-hangers (numbering exactly zero), and therefore banished them.

I may have fudged a few details, though.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 9 2011, 02:08 AM

While the 'memoire' format is still giving this the 'passage of times past' feel that I believe you want, you are really incorporating plenty of dynamic memories and dialogue that 'show' Syl's youth and make reading about it a joy.

'I failed to see how needlepoint and gossip were useful tasks, but who was I to argue?'

'…wondering if she was some sort of ethereal being who was sent to watch over me.'
Syl is indeed a fairie princess, for she has three ethereal beings watching over her in this episode alone. First there is the appearance of a raven - well-known spirit of a fellow Bosmeri lass with a mane of scarlet and faint smile. Then Syl is visited by a butterfly - spirit of another wood nymph with golden locks. And finally the arrival of yet another spirit - this one a mystery, and in the form of a beautiful woman.

I continue to thoroughly enjoy this, and applaud your impressive talent!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 10 2011, 04:51 PM

mALX: Hehe, leaving you guessing and in suspense...that is precisely what I am up to... but the answers will not become clear for quite some time.... Glad you are enjoying it.

SubRosa: Yes, you can see the rather unusual mentality of the Demented at work here, and also Syl's ability to see her father's capability for murder, yet at the same time, her love and trust in him distorts her ability to see it fully. But, is it what it seems, or is there more to it than meets the eye...?

Thomas: Thank you. Yes, I have always had a fondness for psychology, and a sort of ease with being able to empathize with the villains, and to see their side of the story. I have always been drawn to the darker side of life, though not to the point of completely succumbing to it; and I can sort of understand what it is to be on the brink of insanity, struggling to hold onto self-control. I grew up with a mother who has bi-polar, and a father in denial about his depression, so I guess I've witnessed some of the varying degrees of madness first hand....

Acadian: Thank you. It is my hope to present a picture of Syl that shows her depth--both the good and the bad that exists within all of us. I want to promote understanding and sympathy for the one perceived as the villain, and give her the chance to show us what the madness of the Shivering Isles did to her truly innocent and good soul. The best of men can be corrupted, and good people can do some terrible things if pushed too far to stop themselves...
And of course, I must have some humor spread throughout, to keep it from getting too dark and miserable.


Chapter 2.2--The Errand Boy

On Sundas mornings, when the Madgod favored Dementia, we went to the http://images.uesp.net//8/85/SI-place-Sacellum_Arden-Sul.jpg to hear the High Priest sermonize the teachings of the Demented. I tried to listen carefully, but I could never get myself to enjoy sermons, and very often my mind wandered. I couldn’t help but wonder what the High Priest of Mania was thinking as he sat in his own pulpit, praying quietly to himself while trying to ignore the words that the High Priest of Dementia spoke. I often wondered, though never aloud, what was it that made the Manics so terrible? Why did they disagree so strongly with our teachings?

The one time I did ask this question aloud, Muurine answered sharply, “The Manics are blinded by their inability to see beyond the tips of their noses. They do not really care about what is true and what is not, because they would rather eat and drink and act like fools. The only thing they care about is themselves, and nothing more. Just stay away from the Manics, Syl. They are no good, and they cannot be trusted.”

That was easy enough to obey, though I didn’t feel any more assured of the evils of Mania than I had before I’d asked my question of her. I’d never even met a Manic, up to that point in my life, having only seen them from afar. They didn’t look all that frightening to me—if anything, they were just a bit odd, with their bright colored clothing and over-the-top mannerisms. I only stayed away from them because I was told to do so, and because I was chaperoned whenever I left the palace.

Soon after my mother’s death, I began sneaking out of the palace, because I hated always being followed by Muurine and my father’s Seducers. It felt refreshing to wander the grounds, believing that I had finally found the freedom I was so badly beginning to crave. The Seducers that patrolled the grounds, of course, knew who I was and reported to my father what I was up to. He let me continue to think I was escaping, though, because the Seducers would still be able to keep an eye on me, as long as I never left the palace grounds. Of course, being only a child, I never imagined venturing any further. But that would soon change, when one particular escape brought a meeting that would forever change my life, in ways I could never have imagined.

It was grey and wet that morning, but the afternoon sun began to peek through the clouds when I snuck out that day. I wandered down to my favorite thinking place, by one of the giant roots that grew up from the ground, twisting up toward the ramparts and holding tightly to one of the columns. When I sat down, I rested my head in my arms upon a dampened rock, quietly thinking and trying not to cry. It had been months now since my mother’s death, but I still thought of her all the time, unable to chase the painful memories from my mind. I missed her so terribly, and a part of me felt empty; something vital was missing and could never be replaced.

I let out a sigh and closed my eyes as a tear slipped gently down my cheek. That’s when I heard a small voice nearby, asking, “What’s the matter with you?”

My eyes shot open, and I was surprised when I turned my head to see a small boy standing only a few feet away. He had soft brown hair and green eyes the shade of a perfectly polished emerald. He was mer, like me, and given his petit size, I assumed he was also Bosmer. Other than size, he appeared to be around my age. But he was not Demented. This I knew right away, as his clothing was most certainly Manic in style, simple as they were; he was likely a servant of the House of Mania.

“Nothing’s the matter with me,” I said defensively, turning away again and trying to ignore him, as was expected of me. But then he came closer.

“If nothing’s the matter, then why are you crying?” he persisted. “Did somebody hurt you?”

“I’m not crying,” I protested; but then I had to wipe some tears from my cheeks and use my sleeve to dry my eyes. When I looked back up at him, he was still watching me curiously, and I finally grew tired of his gawking. “Why are you talking to me? Don’t you know that I’m Demented?”

“Yeah, so…?”

“So…it means we can’t talk to each other,” I replied. Then I added, with an air, “Besides, I’m a faerie princess. You’re just a pauper.”

The boy laughed. “You’re not a faerie, or a princess! Faeries have wings, and there’s no such thing as a princess in the Shivering Isles.”

“There is too!” I cried, upset that he would laugh at me. “My father says so, and he is always right.”

“I’ve never known anyone who was always right. Only Sheogorath….”

“My father is the Duke of Dementia,” I said haughtily, rising to my feet. I was pleased to find that I was, in fact, taller than he by just a tiny bit. “You’re just a little peasant—what do you know?”

“I’m not a peasant!” he cried, his cheeks reddening a bit. “Peasants are those birds they sometimes have on the supper table, and I’m not a bird—I’m an errand boy.”

Now I laughed. “You’re stupid. Peasants are poor people; pheasants are the birds of which you speak.”

He simply shrugged, unbothered by my insults. “Well, at any rate, I’m still not a peasant. I’m not poor.”

“You look poor,” I replied. “Your clothes are dull, your hair is dirty, and you smell like a barn.”

“I don’t care,” he said with a shrug. He then added, “You probably don’t even know what a barn smells like, so you’re not a very good critic.”

“What are you, an imbecile or something? Why are you even talking to me? Don’t you have work to do, errand boy?”

“Not now,” he answered, still not letting my attempts at insulting him work to bring him down. “The Duke said I could go out and play.”

“The Duke? You mean the Duke of Mania?”

“Mmhm. He’s my master, and my cousin’s uncle.”

“Wouldn’t that make him your uncle, as well?”

“Why would it? He’s not related to me; only to my cousin.”

I’ll admit I was a bit confused. But I didn’t want to look bad in front of a commoner, so I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Whatever. Why would I care who is and isn’t related to you?”

“You wouldn’t, I suppose,” he replied. Then he suddenly thrust his hand toward me, and said, “I’m Thadon, by the way. What is your name?”

I looked at his outstretched hand with hesitation. I knew I shouldn’t be speaking to him; my father’s hatred of the Manics was far from secret. But Thadon didn’t seem like someone not to trust, so I asked myself, what would be the harm in shaking his hand?

“I’m Syl,” I said finally, taking his hand and offering a meager smile. He became elated, and a smile spread across his face that was so filled with warmth and honesty, that I couldn’t help being drawn in by it from the start. My smile then grew, and it was the first time I had really smiled since the day my mother died.

“Syl is a pretty name,” he said thoughtfully. “What is its meaning?”

“It means faerie,” I replied, to which he smiled.

“So, you really are a faerie, after all!”

“I told you I was, didn’t I?”

His smile became more serious then, and he looked downward for a moment, almost shyly. When he looked up again, his eyes met mine, and he said, “You’re pretty, too. I like your eyes. They are like the sky, only prettier.”

I blushed. I had never really received compliments about my appearance before, so I wasn’t sure what to think about it. But I said, in a timid manner, “Thanks. I like your eyes, too.”

“Thank you!” he exclaimed, seeming overjoyed by my compliment. His emerald green eyes continued to examine my face, while I continued looking down shyly.

He laughed suddenly, causing me to look up and ask, “What?”

“Oh, nothing…. I’m just happy, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Why not? I’ve made a new friend!”

“I never said I was your friend.”

“Aren’t you?” he asked. “I thought you were…. But perhaps I was wrong.”

“Thadon, we can’t be friends. It’s against the rules.”

“What rules?”

“Well…my father’s, for one; he would never allow me to befriend a Manic.”

He glanced around almost impishly, and then said, “It’s not a crime if no one knows about it.”

“That’s foolish,” I stated bluntly. “We could get in a lot of trouble.”

“I know,” he replied with a shrug. “But I like you. You’re nothing like what they’ve said.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re Demented,” he answered. “But you’re also very nice. And you haven’t bitten me yet, so I’d assume you’re not going to.”

“Who says we bite people?”

He shrugged. “My cousin and all my other friends….”

“That’s absurd. We’re not vampires. We don’t bite anybody…. But I fail to see why you would call me ‘nice’; I’ve been anything but kind to you.”

“That’s not true,” he argued. “You shook my hand, and you gave me a compliment. That’s called being nice.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “Whatever.”

“Say,” he said suddenly, “would you like to run errands with me in the afternoons? Some of the people give me candy as a tip, and there’s even some people who give me gold!”

“Why would I want to do that? I’m not a servant. I’m a lady of esteem.”

Again, he shrugged. “I thought you might like to share some of it with me, that’s all.”

I looked at him curiously. Sharing wasn’t selfish; but everyone said that the Manics only ever thought of themselves. What did he want out of me? Was he really only seeking friendship? It seemed hard to believe. Before I came up with an answer, though, I heard Muurine calling my name, and I gasped aloud. “I have to go!” I cried, turning to leave.

“But wait!” Thadon called. “Will you come with me tomorrow? I go out at 2 every afternoon….”

“I’ll try!” I shouted, running up the steps as fast as I could in my heavy brocade skirts, afraid of what might happen if Muurine saw me talking to a Manic child.

I met her as she was walking away from the doorway to the House of Dementia, and she asked, suspiciously, looking toward the staircase, “Who were you talking to?”

“No one,” I said, without a hint of dishonesty in my voice. “Just one of the Mazken….”

She was unsure of my answer, but she seemed to decide I was telling the truth, and she turned to lead me back inside, saying, “Well, hurry up! You’re late for your dancing lesson. The Duke will not be pleased.”

As I followed, I looked over my shoulder to see Thadon coming up the steps. He watched me disappear inside, and then returned to the House of Mania, presumably back to his duties.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 10 2011, 07:55 PM

What a delightful episode! Not to mention one that will doubtlessly change Syl's life forever. So here we meet young Thadon, catching her eye with his forbidden Manic style. Under it all is of course the division between the two cultures, which doubtlessly only adds to the attraction, as all forbidden fruits do.

Don’t you know that I’m Demented?
This is wonderful when taken out of context!

And you haven’t bitten me yet, so I’d assume you’re not going to.
I love this!



nits:
but the afternoon sun began to peak through the clouds
You are looking for peek, which is to look. Peak is the highest point on something, such as the top of a mountain.

You’re late for you dancing lesson.
Looks like Thadon absconded with the "r" in your!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 10 2011, 08:00 PM

Thanks for pointing out these mistakes! I changed them right away. It's amazing how other people's eyes can catch mistakes that I've missed, though I've gone over it several times myself to edit. Just goes to show how very helpful it is to have others proof-read!

Posted by: mALX Apr 10 2011, 10:19 PM

Ooh, nice foreshadowing !!!



ROFL !!! And the fact that it is said with a straight face makes it doubly hilarious !! Do I detect a little transferance of pain from the loss of her mother in Syl's actions toward Thadon? Probably, because she is definately not mean spirited or thoughtless. Lucky thing her target was immune to her attempts, lol.

I love how you developed both characters so effortlessly in that scene !!





This exchange had me in stitches !!! I really enjoy how creatively you are sculptering the differences between Dementia and Mania !!! I think I've actually learned something about Shivering Isles reading this that I never picked up in game !!

I am loving this story in a way I was not able to love SI in the game !! Awesome Write !!!

Posted by: Acadian Apr 11 2011, 12:39 AM

This was a delight! You really got into a dynamic scene quickly in this episode and it as a fabulous scene at that! I smiled all the way through this encounter between the little Demented and the even smaller Manic. You did a great job of imparting loads of personality to Thadon and Syl here. Wonderful dialogue!

I loved the overtones of forbidden fruit and class constraints.

“Peasants are those birds they sometimes have on the supper table, and I’m not a bird—I’m an errand boy.”

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 11 2011, 03:30 PM

SubRosa: Again, thank you for pointing out the errors. And thanks for enjoying this episode! This is one of my favorite scenes, so I took more care in making sure to develop the two characters we know so well, and to portray them as they should be. We can already see in them the personalities that define them in the game, but because of their youth and innocence, it is not quite as distinct.

mALX: I am glad you picked up on the transference in Syl's actions toward Thadon. And Thadon was just too naive and sweet to let it bother him. Plus, he couldn't help being intrigued by the little Demented girl who calls herself a fairy princess.

Acadian: Thank you. Yes, this was originally my first truly dynamic scene. I wanted the first meeting of theirs to really stand out, as it is perhaps one of the most important scenes in the whole story, because it sets the stage for what is to come.

To all: The innocence and naivete of children was important for me to portray in this scene--neither of them really understands the class-restraints and the differences of culture that separates them. Thadon, as we saw, couldn't care less about it, and Syl only does what she is told out of fear. But Thadon's charm manages to break through the layer of protective ice that Syl has already begun to construct around herself, and their friendship blossoms, despite the huge rift between their people. But can it withstand...?



Chapter 2.3--A Forbidden Friendship

The next afternoon, at two on the hour, I decided to sneak out to meet Thadon. I doubted that he would actually be waiting for me, until I saw him sitting on the rock where I’d been crying the day before. I noticed right away that his hair looked freshly cleaned and it shined in the sun; he also had it pulled back with a leather cord, and he looked very handsome. Was it because of what I said? Was he trying to impress me?

He jumped up the moment he saw me coming, and exclaimed, “Syl! You came!”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Well, sort of—you said you would try. I’m glad that you made it.”

I looked behind me and around, to be sure that no one was watching us. Then I took his hand and began walking toward the door to Bliss, saying, “We must go quickly, so nobody sees us. I could get in a lot of trouble, you know.”

“I know,” he said, following me cheerfully. Somehow I doubted he really understood just how much trouble I would be in if we were caught. He obviously had never been caned before….

Once we passed through the doorway into Bliss, I relaxed a little more. Though I would stick out very obviously as a Demented girl, no one there was likely to recognize who I was, if they even cared, so I was out of trouble—at least for awhile.

http://images.uesp.net//c/c3/SI-place-Bliss.jpg was nothing like I had ever seen, and I was in awe right away. The streets were paved and clean, the stone buildings were glistening and white; nothing like the grey and weathered buildings that lined the mostly unpaved and muddy streets of http://images.uesp.net//2/20/SI-place-Crucible.jpg. The air was fresh, and it smelled of a mixture of jasmine, aster blooms, and various spices—cinnamon was the most prominent, and it tickled my taste-buds, exciting my senses. The air in Crucible was nothing like it—more a mixture of must and decay, most unpleasing to the senses.

The water in Bliss, which was the same water that ran through the House of Mania’s throne room, was channeled into a sort of waterway that flowed in waterfalls and streams through the city. The water was clear and clean, unlike the water in Crucible, which was anything but clean once it left the House of Dementia and flowed into the streets of the city, making the mud even worse in some areas. There was no channel for the water in Crucible to flow through, so it was rather unsightly, and it caused problems with insects and contributed to the growth of mold on some of the buildings and statues.

Another difference between the two halves of the city was that everyone in Bliss seemed cheerful and vibrant, so full of life. Muurine always said that it was because they were all on drugs, but they just seemed happy to me. No one gave me any odd or unfriendly looks, though I very obviously didn’t belong in their part of the city. They all greeted me kindly, with a smile and a wave, or a nod of the head. Thadon greeted everyone we passed, and they all seemed to know who he was, and they liked him.

“I have to stop at the shop, first,” he said to me suddenly, bringing me out of my thoughts. “The Duke ordered a new pair of shoes, and they arrived from the cobbler in Highcross today.”

“All right,” I replied. “I’ll just wait here.”

“Why?” he asked, giving me a funny look. “Don’t you want to come in with me?”

“I don’t know if I should; won’t they ask me to leave?”

Thadon chuckled. “You’re very strange, you know that?”

“No, I’m not!”

He shrugged and went on. “Tilse Areleth is really nice. She owns the shop. She won’t make you leave.” He lowered his voice a little, and said, “She’s the one who tips me with real money! Come on, you’ll see!”

He pulled me by the hand into the shop, which had a sign out front that read: Common Treasures. Once inside, we were greeted by a tall woman with flawless blue skin, red eyes, and copper colored hair—she was a Dunmer, or Dark Elf. All Dunmer had blue, green, or grayish skin, and red eyes. Some people were afraid of them, but I thought they were beautiful and exotic.

“Greetings, children,” the woman said. “Thadon, who is your friend?”

“Hello, Tilse!” Thadon beamed. “This is Syl. She’s a Demented faerie, but she’s actually very nice.”

http://images.uesp.net//c/cf/SI-npc-Tilse_Areleth.jpg smiled warmly, and her red eyes turned to me without a hint of unkindness. “It’s so good to meet you, Syl. My name is Tilse, and I own this shop. Feel free to browse, and buy anything you like. And because you are Thadon’s friend, I’ll even give you half off anything you buy.”

“Th-Thank you,” I stammered, shaking her hand and forcing a smile. I was always shy around people I didn’t know well, but it was especially so around Manics.

“Actually,” Thadon put in, “we’re here to pick up a package for Lord Antonius.”

“Ah, yes,” said the shopkeeper, going behind the counter to retrieve a package that was wrapped in brown paper. “Shoes, are they not?”

“That’s the one!” he chimed, taking the package in exchange for money. “Thanks, Tilse.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “I’m always happy to be of service to Antonius. Let him know I’ll be at his supper tonight; and also tell him that I get to have him first afterward. Last time he chose that floozy, Mathilde, and I don’t appreciate it after all I have done for him.”

“I’ll tell him,” said Thadon. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I figured I likely didn’t want to know, either.

“Thanks,” Tilse replied with another smile. Then she held out her hand. “And here, keep one of the coins, for your troubles.”

Thadon eagerly accepted the coin, though he had been expecting it. I was surprised then, when she pulled out another coin and offered it to me, saying, “And I can’t forget to tip your helper, too. Go ahead. Take it.”

I hesitated, as I had never been given money before. But Thadon looked at me in an urging manner, so I took the coin and thanked her for her generosity.

Before we left, Thadon ended up trading his coin back to her for a bag full of sweets; he asked me if I wanted anything, but I shook my head. I wasn’t about to blow my first drake on something so unnecessary; I was going to save it for something special, perhaps.

He shook his head with a chuckle, as if it were odd for me to save my coin. But then he took my hand and led me out of the shop with barely a goodbye to the shopkeeper.

“Where are we going next?” I asked, as he led me through the city.

“To take a break and enjoy our reward,” he replied. “That was my only errand for the day, and the Duke isn’t expecting me back for another hour.”

He took me to a beautiful area that was like a park of some sort, where waterfalls and fountains flowed beautifully around colorful plants and flowers. There were a couple of people walking together there, but they paid us little attention as he led me to one of the bridges that crossed over the stream. Flower petals that had fallen off some trees nearby were floating on the water, and it was enchanting.

Thadon perched up on the railing of the bridge and began eating his sweets, while I stood awkwardly nearby, watching him eat. Then, with a mouthful of chocolate, he offered some to me; but I declined, even backing away.

“Why not?” he asked, after swallowing his mouthful. “Don’t you like chocolate?”

“I…can’t,” I replied, backing up another step.

Thadon raised his brow and wrinkled his face in confusion. “Why…can’t you? That sounds awfully silly. It’s just chocolate—it’s not like it’s poison or something.”

“I’m…allergic.”

“Allergic? How can you be allergic to chocolate? That doesn’t sound natural. Who told you that?”

“My parents did, because I almost died from eating some when I was three.”

“That’s odd. I’ve never heard of someone being allergic to chocolate.”

“Well, now you have.”

He lied back on his elbow again and swung his leg as it dangled off the edge of the bridge. Then he popped another chocolate into his mouth, and said, “That’s very sad, you know. Chocolate is my favorite thing in the world! I would die if I was allergic. I would eat it anyway.”

“That would be foolish,” I replied. “Why would you kill yourself just to eat chocolate?”

“Because it tastes so good; I just couldn’t live without it!”

“You could—if you wanted to.”

“Well, I wouldn’t.” He chuckled a little, and then he giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

He snickered, then replied, “I was just thinking, if I were allergic to chocolate, then they would have to put on my gravestone: ‘Thadon. Died a very happy boy, with a mouth full of chocolate!’”

He laid back his head and held his stomach as he shook with laughter, but I was not amused. I thought he was being entirely foolish, and I found little to laugh about having a deadly allergy. But then he suddenly lost his balance and fell into the water below. I gasped and ran to the side of the bridge, to look down at him. He was soaked to the bone but uninjured, and his chocolates floated away.

“My chocolate!” he cried in alarm, sitting up and watching it disappear down the stream. Then he let out a disappointed sigh and splashed his hand in the water. But when he heard me laughing, he looked up and smiled at me. He began laughing, too, as he pulled himself up.

“Perhaps it’s a sign from the Madgod that you shouldn’t be eating chocolates,” I suggested through my laughter.

“Only when I’m around you,” he replied. Then he bowed to me as if he had just put on a show. I laughed even more, and then ran down to the edge of the stream as he bent down to rinse his hands in the water.

“You look ridiculous,” I giggled, as he smiled up at me in his water-drenched state.

“Oh, really?” he asked. Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed the hem of my skirt and pulled me into the water with him.

I screamed as I splashed into the cold, knee-deep water, and at first I was furious. But when I saw him laughing again, I couldn’t help but join in, and after he helped me up, we stood in the stream together laughing like a couple of clowns and splashing at each other.

When we settled down, he climbed out and helped me to do the same. Then we tried to shake ourselves off while the warm air and sunshine began very slowly to dry us off. He stood there smiling at me for a moment, until I asked, “What?”

“You have a beautiful laugh,” he said with sincerity. “It’s like a melody on the breeze, and it’s pleasing to my ears.”

I became bashful again, and I looked down at my dripping black skirt as I cleared my throat. “I’m going to have a hard time explaining this to Muurine and my father….”

“Who’s Muurine?”

“My governess,” I replied. “She’s been with me for most of my life, and she takes care of me all the time since my mother died….”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It was Alanwen; I’m sure of it.”

“Alanwen…?”

“My father’s concubine…. He says she’s not guilty, but I know she killed my mother. She had to have done it; no one else could have possibly been responsible.”

“Why won’t he punish her then?”

“He loves her,” I replied with a sigh, leaning on the railing, as we were back on the bridge again. “But she doesn’t love him—not really. She just wants to have my father all to herself and be his wife. But my father isn’t going to marry her. He knows better than that.”

Thadon didn’t answer. He just let out a sigh and looked down into the water. It was not like him to be quiet—that much I had already figured out—so it intrigued me.

“What’s wrong?”

He shrugged and turned away, leaning on the railing more and sighing heavily. Then he said, “My parents died when I was six. I don’t remember them a whole lot, but I do still miss them.”

“How did they die?”

“On the road from Hale, where I was born; they were attacked by Grummites.”

“Where were you when it happened?”

“I was with them, but my mother hid me in some bushes when the attack began. Just as she got up and turned back to help my father and my older brother fight, her throat was slashed right in front of me….”

His voice broke then, and I saw that he was trembling as he began to cry. The experience had been traumatic for him, and he was still terrified. I put my arms around him, and he soon began to relax. When he looked back up at me, his green eyes were still filled with tears.

“Because the Duke was a friend of my mother, as my aunt was married to his brother at the time, he took me in and has raised me ever since. You were right, Syl; I’m only a peasant….”

Taking his hand, I smiled, and said, “No. I was wrong. You are a prince, to me, Thadon.”

He looked up at me and smiled, then threw his arms around me. We stood on the bridge there, dripping and cold, but locked in a warm embrace. After that, he grabbed his package for the Duke and began leading me back to the palace. We held each other’s hand very tightly as we walked, and I said, “I’m glad you are my friend, Thadon. I’m sorry I misjudged you, at first.”

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m glad that you’re my friend, too. We’ll be friends forever, won’t we, Syl?”

“Of course,” I answered, with a warm smile, as he opened the door to let me into the palace grounds. And so it was—we were friends.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 11 2011, 04:22 PM

That was just absolutely adorable! I never would have imagined Syl and Thadon being such cute kids, but now that I have seen it, I cannot picture them any other way. Portraying this scene from their childhood was an excellent choice, as you help us bond with both the characters before they grow up, and things start to get really nasty.


I would die if I was allergic. I would eat it anyway.
I am sure he would! Here we see the road that led Thadon to Felldew. Who ever would have imagined that chocolate is a gateway drug!

Posted by: mALX Apr 11 2011, 05:46 PM

I have to agree with SubRosa on absolutely everything she said here. Seeing them before the inevitable pain that will mar their futures was not just an excellent choice, it was a brilliant one. I also agree with her that Thadon shows signs of a future addictive personality even as a cute tyke.



AWESOME WRITE !!!!!!

Posted by: Acadian Apr 12 2011, 01:06 AM

“This is Syl. She’s a Demented faerie, but she’s actually very nice.”
You simply MUST consider this as the new title for your story! It is perfect!

This episode was as delightful to read as eating a box of chocolates! Adorable is a very good word here.

Before we left, Thadon ended up trading his coin back to her for a bag full of sweets; he asked me if I wanted anything, but I shook my head. I wasn’t about to blow my first drake on something so unnecessary; I was going to save it for something special, perhaps.
What a neat insight into perhaps a difference between Manic and Demented thinking. I was reminded of the grasshopper and the ant fable.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 12 2011, 08:48 PM

SubRosa and mALX: Indeed, chocolate is the gateway drug in Thadon's case. After all, an addictive personality always starts small, before it leads to such harmful addictions as greenmote and felldew. And thank you. I am glad you have come to see the innocence that once lied within these two infamous characters!

Acadian:I don't recall that fable, but I'll have to see if I can find it. Any way you can point me in the right direction? And thank you, of course. Yes, these scenes are very possibly my favorites, simply because it reminds us how truly amazing and adorable children are in their innocence. Even I sometimes forget this, like when I walk into the kitchen to find eggs smashed on the floor...lol

All: I have added links to screenshots found on the UESP wiki, throughout the prologue and chapters. Some of them are within the episodes (past and current), and you can find them when the text in the middle of the story is bold. This is mostly for the readers who haven't been to the Shivering Isles, but also for any of you who care to check them out!


Chapter 3.1--Cold, Harsh Reality

My friendship with Thadon was the first real one I had ever had. We were of the same age, and we got along swimmingly back in those days, long before the madness of the Isles had consumed us. To this day, I still don’t know what it was that drew us to each other. Perhaps we were just lonely. But there seemed to be something special between us right from the start, and we began spending every afternoon together, running errands for the Duke of Mania and playing in Bliss.

There was a fountain in Bliss, near the gate that opened to the countryside of Mania. It was a beautiful statue made of gleaming white marble, depicting Lord Sheogorath seated atop a pillar in all His splendor, with three beautiful mermaids gracing the column below Him. Fresh, sparkling water flowed up from beneath the Madgod and spilled into the fountain below, signifying the life-giving waters that He pours out for all of His people to drink. That fountain enchanted me as a little girl, and Thadon would take me to visit there often.

The first time Thadon took me to that fountain, he brought a couple of drakes with him and gave one of them to me, saying, “Here, make a wish. They always come true when you wish at the fountain of Sheogorath’s Graces.”

“What?” I asked, completely puzzled as he stuffed the coin into my hand.

He looked at me incredulously, and then he burst out laughing. “By Sheogorath, have you never made a wish at a fountain before?”

I always felt uncomfortable and self-conscious being the brunt of his jokes, and I hated when anyone laughed at me. Holding my arm and looking down uncomfortably, I shrugged my shoulders, and answered meekly, “No one has ever told me to before….”

“Well then, let me show you,” he said, walking up to the fountain and gazing at the statue for a moment. “All right, first you close your eyes and wish for something that you truly want. But you can’t say it out loud, or it won’t come true. Then, you toss your coin into the fountain, as you make your wish, and if your heart is pure, your wish will be granted.”

“And what are you going to wish for,” I remarked sarcastically, “chocolate?”

Thadon cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked down at the ground, “Well…I can’t now that you’ve guessed it…. I don’t know what I’ll wish for. Perhaps you should go first.”

I rolled my eyes and chuckled a little, stepping forward and looking down into the water. This all seemed a silly Manic ritual to me, but I would try it, just for fun. After all, what could it hurt?

Taking a moment to clear my head, I closed my eyes and thought about what I would wish for, if I could have only one wish in the world. When I had decided, I took a deep breath, dropped the coin into the water and made a wish.

“There,” I said, stepping back and turning to Thadon. “That was easy.”

He smiled, and said, “See? And now, you just have to wait and see if your wish comes true. Now it’s my turn!”

I waited and watched as he repeated the ritual of making a wish, and after it was finished, he turned to me and smiled. “Do you want to know what I wished for?”

“I thought that if you told me it would not come true?”

“So I did,” he replied. “But I’ll tell you anyway, and hopefully it will still come true.”

“It’s your wish, not mine,” I said, shrugging carelessly.

“I wished for a kiss from a beautiful elven maiden.”

It took me but only a minute to realize that he meant me, and then I felt my face turn scarlet and I looked away with embarrassment. “I…have never kissed anyone before.”

“Neither have I,” he responded, looking at me hopefully. “My cousin, Baenlin, who is a year older than me, has kissed a girl before. He told me about it last week, and he said it was okay. I was…hoping to try it, but…only with the girl that I like.”

“Well,” I said slowly, still trying to form a sentence in my mind, “perhaps if you…ask the girl…she might say yes. I mean, it…it’s worth a try.”

He stepped closer to me then and reached for my hand. I felt a fluttering in my stomach unlike I had ever felt before, and when he looked into my eyes I thought I was going to faint. Holding my hand in his, he asked, “Syl, will you be my first kiss?”

In that moment, it was as if time was suddenly standing still, and my heart raced. I was afraid, and yet I wanted to kiss him. I had never thought of kissing a boy until then, but I wanted to kiss him. And so, without saying a word, I leaned in and closed my eyes as we pressed our lips together in a brief but meaningful first kiss.

When we looked at each other after it was done, there was a moment of awe written on both of our faces. But very quickly we realized what we had done, and the awe was replaced by surprise and embarrassment, and then we both mumbled some hasty words and ran from each other. We were only children, after all, and it was too awkward for us then.

Getting over the awkwardness of our first kiss, Thadon and I continued to play together the very next day. We quickly forgot about it, and he took me to the Halcyon Conservatory, which was the Duke of Mania’s garden, where we were able to play without the fear of being caught by my father, or anyone Demented, for that matter.

The http://images.uesp.net//a/af/SI-place-Halcyon_Conservatory.jpg was beautiful and exotic; with butterflies fluttering about, and roses growing on vines that wound around the columns supporting the open roof, it seemed like a place filled with enchantment. Thadon and I could run around playing hide-and-seek among the trees and plant life, while the Golden Saints patrolled, paying us little attention. I’m sure they didn’t care for a Demented Wood Elf playing with their master’s servant, but they never said anything, and Thadon and I played and laughed freely, at ease in our surroundings.

The Duke of Mania, Lord Antonius, was a tall Imperial with olive-toned skin and thick black hair that was streaked with white, reminding me of ground pepper. He spent much of his time in the Halcyon Conservatory, reading and painting and watching us play. I knew that Lord Antonius and my father hated each other, so I was at first afraid that he would disapprove of my friendship with Thadon. But the Duke was most gracious and kind to me then, and he always welcomed me with a warm voice and a friendly smile.

Occasionally, Thadon’s cousin, Baenlin, would play with us; but he remained more aloof, jealous, no doubt, of his cousin’s new playmate. On one occasion, Baenlin even tripped me, supposedly by accident, but I’ve always believed it was on purpose. He laughed when I fell, splitting my lip on a rock, but Thadon rushed to my side to help me, and he grew very angry at Baenlin and yelled at him furiously.

Baenlin stopped laughing and glared at Thadon, saying, “What good is it to defend your Demented girlfriend, Thadon? Who cares what happens to any of the Demented? Anyway, it was only an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Thadon didn’t believe him, and the two of them argued a little before Baenlin stormed off, and then Thadon turned back to me. “Don’t mind him, he’s only jealous. Here, let me help you get cleaned up. Lord Antonius has a healer who can fix that up, and no one will ever know the difference.”

After that incident, we stopped going to the Halcyon Conservatory, and continued playing together in the streets of Bliss, where we sometimes met with strange looks, but never any unpleasantness. We would have gone on forever this way, had we been able to. But, like all good things, it had to come to an end.

We were returning to the palace grounds after running a few tiny errands that took us about an hour, and we were holding hands, as always. Upon entering from Bliss, however, I saw Muurine walking toward us, calling my name, and I pulled away very quickly. But it was too late—she had already seen us.

Stopping in front of us, Muurine took one look at Thadon and glared at me furiously. “I have been looking all over for you! Your father knows what you have been up to with this…Manic boy. He is not pleased. You will follow me at once!”

I began to plead with her, but she grabbed me by the arm before I could even finish, and began dragging me behind her without another word. Thadon watched with a worried look on his face, and that’s the last I saw of him that day.

Just inside the House of Dementia’s main hall, Muurine turned and slapped me across the face, saying, “Fickle changeling! How dare you do this to me! Your father is about to have my head because of this. How dare you make friends with the enemy?”

“But Thadon was nice to me,” I argued.

She merely scoffed. “Nice? You thought he was ‘nice’? How can you be such a foolish girl? Don’t you listen to anything your elders say? The Manics are not to be trusted! Do you hear me, Syl? They are only nice if they want something from you. The moment you give them what they want, they’ll turn around and stab you in the back! You are a very stupid, foolish girl! You’d better hope that your father doesn’t blame this mischief on me, or I’ll kill you myself, do you hear? I’ll not be punished for your riff-raff.”

She grabbed my wrist again and pulled me to follow her to my father’s throne, where he sat with his steward and his mistress on either side. All of them knew I had been playing with a Manic child, and no one seemed very pleased—least of all, my father. He had never looked at me the way he did then, and I felt very fearful of him for the first time in my life. My punishment, he decided, would be fairly light, by Demented standards, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. I knew this punishment all too well, and I feared my father’s strong arm. But he would not be the one to beat me this time.

As her punishment for not watching me more closely, Muurine was given the task of being the one to deliver the beating. She didn’t want to do this to me, as I was only a child, and she loved me very dearly. But she knew that she had no choice, so she took the cane that was brought to her without hesitation.

With coldness in her dark brown eyes, she looked at me, and quietly said, “This is your own fault, Syl. You knew better, and yet you disobeyed one of your father’s most fundamental rules. I hope you learn from this, child—for your own sake, I hope you learn. Kneel!”

I tremblingly obeyed, closing my eyes to prepare myself for the first strike. It was always worst when it began, but after the first few strikes, it would start to numb a little, and then it was mostly tolerable. Muurine had never been the one to beat me before, so I wasn’t sure of what to expect. But the first strike of the cane on my back alone proved that she was much stronger than she appeared, and my shrieks from the pain echoed through the main hall for the next five minutes straight.

When my father was satisfied, he told her to stop, and then she helped me to my quarters where she used a spell to heal me right away. I curled up in my bed with my knees to my chin and wept quietly, while she sat nearby, looking worn out from her exertion and perhaps a little remorseful.

“I’m sorry, Syl,” she said in a soft and motherly voice. The warmth had returned to her eyes again, and she looked sincere. “You know I had no other choice. I hope you have learned you lesson. You are a daughter of Dementia. This is where you belong. You have no business speaking to a Manic. They are not our friends. You will understand this one day, when you’re a little older. But you are not to see that boy again—is that clear?”

I nodded slowly, but continued to look away. Muurine sighed and said, “Good. Then I assume you have learned your lesson. I shall leave you alone now, and give you time to rest. Don’t forget, there is a party tonight, to celebrate your father’s birthday. He will be having four traitors tortured for the entertainment, and you mustn’t miss it. You need to get over your girlish qualms about such things, as they are a part of life, and they are quite enjoyable. Your father has demanded that you sit through the entire show this time—after your disobedience with that Manic child, I would advise that you obey.”

With that she left me alone, and I began crying again. As a child, I hated seeing other people being tortured, even if they were my father’s enemies. I did not understand the necessity for it, but he had grown tired of my terrors, as people in his court were beginning to talk. It was my mother’s fault, he said, because she wouldn’t let me be exposed to such things when I was younger. But now that she was gone, he was insisting that I watch these torture sessions once a week, and it was horrible for me as a naïve and ignorant child. I would get over it, in time, and plenty of my enemies have discovered this the hard way.

It was important for me, as a young girl, to make my Ada proud; so, I was trying my best to see things more his way, and I sat through the entire show that night, hardly moving. I was rewarded for my wondrous efforts, and the courtiers stopped talking about the Duke’s unusual daughter that very night. From that point on, none of them doubted my Dementedness again.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 13 2011, 12:40 AM

* Old Business: The Ant and the Grasshopper is one of Aesop's Fables. To paraphrase a brief wiki summary: 'The fable concerns a grasshopper that has spent the warm months singing while the ant worked to store up food for the winter. When that season arrives, the grasshopper finds itself dying of hunger and, upon asking the ant for food, is rebuked for idleness.'

The fable lightly came to mind when Demented Girl questioned why Manic Boy was going to spend his gold on something as fleeting as chocolate.

As the two youngsters developed their forbidden friendship, Romeo and Juliet also came to mind.

* New Business:

Your linked UESP shots are very helpful, since I don't get to the Isles very often.

And a beautiful first kiss! Very touching and superbly written. Innocence, only to be lost before the end of the episode.

What a wonderful job you did of painting the demented mind of Muurine as she beat Syl, then apologized like a mother, then extolled the virtues of torture!

This episode did indeed feel sort of like an innocence lost. Syl's dark reminder that she would learn to torture her enemies really brought that feeling home at the end.

* Nit: The first time Thadon took me to that fountain, he brought a couple of drakes with and gave one of them to me,
I think you want 'with him' instead of just 'with'.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 13 2011, 04:56 PM

The added pictures do help wonderfully. It hearkens me back to the old days when novels would have illustrations in them, usually a dozen or so per book.

Again, Syl and Thadon are so sweet! Their first kiss was wonderfully done, especially with the embarrassed flight afterward! Oh, to be so young again!

I wonder if Baenlin is the same one from Bruma?

Syl's beating was just as I expected would eventually happen. One thing though, you never described exactly how Muurine did it. With her bare hands and feet? A flogger? A cane? etc...


He will be having four traitors tortured for the entertainment
Yippie! Party time in the Shivering Isles!

none of them doubted my Dementedness again
Well that's a relief!


nits:
My friendship with Thadon was the first real friendship I had ever had.
You have a repeat of friendship in the same sentence. You might change the second occurrence to one.

Posted by: mALX Apr 13 2011, 07:10 PM

Wonderful foreshadowing here !!


Their first kiss - Ah, so Sheogorath's rumors about Syl and Thadon come true (sort of), lol.

Thadon's innate charm is very visible in this scene, Awesome Write !!







SPEW !!! You always catch me off guard with these hilarious references !!!!



Even after the sadness of the scene itself, this gives a chuckle.

You are doing an amazing job with bringing this story into depths of SI that I never thought of - hugely creative write !!! I am loving this !!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 13 2011, 07:46 PM

These last few chapters have been excellent! Your story takes us in surprising new directions. We see the wonderfully sweet innocence of youth through the friendship between Syl and Thadon. The harsh realities of life in the Isles are embodied by Muurine’s brutality upon their return to Dementia. Seeing her slap Syl across the face gave us an instant reminder of just who Muurine really is. Behind the love that she so clearly has for Syl lies a woman who still collects body parts for display in her living room! I am left wondering how Syl will manage to disobey Ada’s edict in the future, because I think that Thadon has become her particular form of chocolate.

Posted by: Thomas Kaira Apr 13 2011, 11:41 PM

Hard to fathom Syl ever getting any enjoyment from watching people get beaten to a bloody pulp in front of her. That's just the kind of shocking revelation that makes me truly believe I am there in the Shivering Isles. You say you are insane? Well, if that is true, please don't stop, as your insanity is quite delightful and endearing.

It was hard to read of Syl's punishment, however, it was not unwarranted. Caning was a very popular disciplinary tactic in the Middle Ages (it only recently fell out of favor), and Syl certainly did break her Father's word (not to mention his law). I am glad he had compassion enough to hold back on his daughter, but nonetheless, I do hope Syl learned to respect her father a little better.

It's not fun to be punished, but it has to happen from time to time. You paint an excellent picture of Syl's past here, and I hate it that I'm being left hanging now.

Good show!

Posted by: Ceidwad Apr 14 2011, 12:27 AM

I have only scanned this to date, but it is clearly brilliantly written, and there is a compelling backstory being laid down. You lay the foundations for Syl's future paranoia superbly. You show how she learns from a young age that court life is ruled by Machiavellian tendencies, and we see her competing with Alawen for her father's attention, and taking relish in 'winning'. She will carry these experiences into adulthood and this is really a fascinating exploration of her character. Many thumbs up from me so far!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 15 2011, 05:12 PM

Acadian:Thanks for the story of the Grasshopper and the Ant. It sounded familiar, but at the same time it didn't. Indeed, it does fit that scene with Thadon and Syl very well.

I am glad you like the links. I've enjoyed the screenshots in everyone else's fan fics, so I decided I could use UESP to add screenshots to mine, to make it a little easier to envision.

Also, thank you for the nit. I fixed it right away.

SubRosa:I've read a lot of old novels, and I loved the pictures in older additions. It's really a shame that we've moved away from that.

Nope, different Baenlin. But I liked the name, so I snatched it for Thadon's cousin. I wanted a similar sound to their names.

I also changed the scene of Syl's beating, so it's more clear how she was beaten. Thanks for the tip--and also the nit.

mALX: Oh yes, it was important for me to show Thadon's charm right from the start. Even as a kid, he was already showing signs of his future casanova-like personality. They say the Duke of Mania has a way with women...

SPEW !!! You always catch me off guard with these hilarious references !!!!--Hehehe. Isn't it great?

Destri:Thanks! Yes, the first chapter was still more of an introduction, so it wasn't as dynamic. But, unless I want to sort of graze through something, from the second chapter onward there is a lot more dynamism between the characters.

And yes, it was also important for me to show the confliction and depth in characters such as Muurine. She loves Syl, but Muurine is literally insane. And we also see an inkling of the strong feelings about what it means to be Manic and Demented that leads Muurine to the ultimate act of betrayal against the Duchess she raised and loved.

Thomas:Thank you. Glad my insanity pleases you.

Yes, caning was brutal but common, and I thought it fit perfectly with the pseudo-medieval world of TES and the Shivering Isles. Poor Syl had to endure caning fairly often as a child, and it taught her the lesson of hard love.

Ceidwad:Thank you. Yes, Syl resists madness for quite some time, in fact, but once she is taken by insanity, we see what she became--I'd say paranoid schizophrenic is a good way to describe Syl's particular form of madness.

And she certainly does take pleasure in winning and in being on top. She is very complex, so while she can be humble and caring, she can also tend to be selfish, demanding, and prideful. She would likely have made an excellent Duchess, if only she were not insane!

All: I thank you most humbly for your compliments, criticisms, help, and support. You are all taking a part in making Syl's story be the best it can be, and your enjoyment of it makes me ever more eager to keep her story going, as well as improve it along the way. You are all my inspiration and my motivation. Thank you for taking the time to be a part of this journey with me and Syl, into the depths of madness.




Chapter 3.2--Lessons

A couple of weeks passed before I even attempted to sneak out to the palace grounds again, but I was not intending to speak to Thadon. I just wanted to find a moment of quiet solitude under the shade of the trees—another much-craved luxury that I rarely got to have. When Thadon came through from running his usual errands in Bliss, he saw me and gasped, running to approach me.

“Syl?” he asked quietly, glancing around to make sure we weren’t being watched. “Syl, are you all right? I haven’t seen you in so long; I thought I was never going to see you again! Did you get into trouble?”

“Of course, I did,” I replied in a rather unfriendly manner. “Are you a fool, Thadon, to still be talking to me? Go away, before we both get in trouble.”

“But, Syl…I…I want us to still be friends. You said that we would be friends forever, and I thought that you meant it.”

“We can’t be friends, Thadon; don’t you understand? We’re not the same.”

“Sure we are. We’re both Bosmer. We both have brown hair. And we’re the same age….”

“None of that matters, Thadon! It’s what’s inside us that is different. You’re a Manic, I’m Demented…. We can never be the same.”

“But, Syl….”

“Just…go away!” I cried, bursting to my feet and shoving him to the ground. “I never want to see you again!”

I ran away from him, as warm tears slid down my cheeks. Returning to the palace, I shut myself in my room, slamming the door so hard that Muurine awoke from the nap she had accidentally taken in a chair, and she sat up, asking, “Syl? What’s with all the noise? Where have you been?”

“Nowhere,” I snapped, sitting at my writing desk and returning to my studies, where I was supposed to have been the whole time. Muurine often fell asleep while I attended my studies in the afternoons, and that was how it was so easy for me to sneak out. Thank the Madgod for necromancy and the Rooftop Club, both which kept her up late nearly every night.

She sighed and moved to a chair, still groggy from having been awakened from a relatively deep slumber, and never bothered to ask again what I had been up to that day.

I never did see Thadon again—not while we were children, that is. He was busy serving Lord Antonius, and I was busy with my own life of learning to become a proper Demented lady, whatever that was. I was eager to learn, but I was not an easy child to raise. This was due to my fiery and independent spirit, which often got me into trouble, but no one ever asked me to be anything other than what I was. There is an old elven saying, which Muurine often applied to me: “Elven children are slow to come, and most demanding of their welcome.” Apparently it was even more so with noble elven children, and Muurine certainly had her hands full with me.

I continued to join Muurine while she made her rounds in the city to gossip with friends. While she visited, I sat by with my usual tasks, but now I was instructed also to listen carefully to their conversations, while not actually joining in. She said that it was imperative for me to pay close attention to the forms and patterns of speech in conversation—a lady must have a proper way of speaking, as well as writing. It seemed that there were a lot of things which a lady must do properly, and the lessons got quite boring at times. But I was still eager to be a fine lady, like my mother had once been, and like all the other ladies in Dementia’s court. The way they talked, the way they walked, even the way they ate, distinguished ladies of esteem from commoners. I had to learn those ways, or I would never be truly accepted in my father’s court.

Apart from learning to be a lady, and trying to get better in the schools of magicka, I was also instructed in the study of alchemy. This began when I was eleven, and I came to enjoy it quite thoroughly. It was the only arcane art in which I managed to excel. I still remember the hours I spent with her at her house, listening attentively to her lessons in alchemy. She was an excellent teacher, and I was an eager student. We stood there at the table in her quarters, and I watched as she carefully cut into her ingredients, showing me how to properly harvest the parts that were useful, and paying close attention to her descriptions of them.

“You must watch closely,” she told me, “and make a clean cut where necessary. One slight mistake could make a good potion into a deadly poison. You’ll want to know well which one you make, or you might harm yourself unawares.”

“But how will I know, Muurine?” I asked, fearing the consequences should I make a mistake.

“Listen well, and I will show you,” she replied, smiling as the lesson continued. “The Isles are filled with everything you would ever need to make potions and poisons. There are rich supplies all around you, growing from the earth, and breathing with life. You will likely never need to gather your own supplies, as your father has servants who will do that for you. But it is important that you should know how to identify the plants and each of their parts, and what they are useful for.”

“What are you making now?” I asked, looking at the strange alchemy equipment, and the scores of ingredients she had on the table, and wondering how I would ever remember all this.

Muurine smiled, and replied simply, “We are going to start with an easy task. Making potions to do good things can be much more difficult, but it is almost too easy to make a lethal poison. Today I will show you how to make a poison with the power to stop the flow of blood through your veins within minutes. It is very potent, and it is odorless. One would never know it was there, until it was too late. Take care not to touch anything unless I tell you to, and never drink a potion if you are not absolutely certain of the effects it will have on your body….”

The poison she taught me to make in this, my first lesson, would come to be of use to me in later years, but as a child I had no reason to believe I would ever have use for poisons. Still, I watched and listened carefully, drinking in every part of the lessons, fascinated by the ability to turn seemingly mundane ingredients into powerful elixirs.

However, it was about this time that I became interested in another area of study that would move me ever further away from the arcane arts, and help me to build a reputation for myself that would last me a lifetime. In no time at all, I would become one of the most promising students in the art of combat that Dementia had ever seen.

Posted by: Thomas Kaira Apr 15 2011, 06:54 PM

Hmm... master of combat? Could Syl possibly be considering joining Fight Club Rooftop Club? Perhaps Do you think she had to endure the usual new recruit's task of being weighed down with millions of clubs during their first fight?

That was not a very great end to what would have been a long lasting, and perhaps romantic, relationship. At the same time, however, I am glad you ended it, because the poor man in rags capturing the heart of the feisty rich girl is just too cliche to work nowadays (you can thank James Cameron for that). Doing that proves to me you know what you are doing here, and you know exactly what to avoid doing. In Oblivion terms: Your Penmanship skill increased.

Good luck in the Alchemy lessons, Syl.

Posted by: mALX Apr 15 2011, 10:11 PM

Syl honing the skills that make her what she becomes later is hugely interesting, and you have done an Awesome job of presenting it !!! It seems her relationship with Muurine developed into a closer one as the years passed, and I noted that Syl knew some things about the woman that Muurine would have kept secret from her, lol. Awesome Write !!!

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 15 2011, 11:08 PM

Thank the Madgod for necromancy and the Rooftop Club
Did Syl forget the first rule of Rooftop Club? Never talk about Rooftop Club!

“Elven children are slow to come, and most demanding of their welcome.”
I love this saying!

A nice episode, moving Syl ever toward her adulthood as she learns the skills she will need to one day become ruler of Dementia. The confrontation with Thadon was to be expected, as was Syl's reaction to it. I am also not surprised that Muurine would teach her to make lethal poisons before beneficial potions. That is indeed the nature of the Shivering Isles.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 16 2011, 12:55 AM

You are really in your unique and gifted style here that covers substantial amounts of time, yet is so delightfully interwoven with dynamic moments and powerful memories presented with crystal clarity. This was quite a joy to read as you continue to display the evolution of Syl.

At this stage in her life, Syl remains an endearing child, but is clearly showing hints of dangerousness and determination to survive in her world. I would not bet against her.

An intriguingly suggestive ending, with talk about the art of combat.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 18 2011, 03:51 PM

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.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 18 2011, 08:18 PM

So Syl has taken up the bow, and set her sights upon her archery mentor! Once more, it is refreshing to see Syl here, as a young girl totally smitten. Who cannot empathize with her hopes to somehow catch Sinderion's eye? Or feel her frustrations at being overlooked? I wonder if her feelings for Sinderion might be an important piece in her descent into her own personal darkness? As all things in the Shivering Isles, I am certain it cannot end well...


nits:
You use the names of many characters from the game, but so far none of them appear to be the same people. I suggest that if they are different individuals, you use new names for them. Else it becomes confusing. For example, when I saw the name Sinderion, the first image that jumped into my mind was of an old Altmer alchemist with a taste for Skingrad wines. I know coming up with new names can be difficult for some of us (especially myself), but what you might try is one of the name generators. Or perhaps pick names from one of the older games like Daggerfall, that people will not be familiar with. http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Names is a good starting point, as from here you can find all the names used in all games. One of my tricks is to take part of one name, and combine it with part of another.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 18 2011, 08:39 PM

Hmm, yes. I see what you mean with Sinderion.... I really liked his name, but I came up with one that is similar but different--Sindorin. As far as I know, that's not in any of the games, but let me know if I am mistaken. (You do realize Muurine and Uncle Leo are the same ones, right? Uncle Leo just isn't dead yet, and I've imagined Muurine looking more like Anjelica Huston, though it's the same one.... I can't think of anyone else in the story so far whose name is taken directly from a character from the game, but if you do, please let me know, and I'll look into possibly tweaking the names slightly, so as not to cause such confusion.... Sorry about that. )

Edit: Okay, I just found Baenlin, too. Shoot. I forgot about him in Oblivion, when I named this character, and after making the connection, I just never thought about changing it... Of course, I could just say they are the same Baenlin, because Thadon's cousin does drop out of the story at some point... What do you think?

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 18 2011, 09:19 PM

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/homerdoh.gif, I misspoke. I did realize that Muurine and Leo were the same ones in the game. Sorry about that.

Sindorin works. Making Baenlin the same one who gets horned in Bruma would be a nice twist. Likewise, it would be interesting if we saw some of the more colorful Tamriel characters like Glarthir, or the tomato lady, in visit the Isles as well.

Posted by: mALX Apr 19 2011, 01:22 AM

WOO HOO !! Syl's first crush at age 12 !! Like SubRosa said, I remember that first crush at age 12 - and SubRosa is right, they never end well, in Shivering Isles or out, lol.

You have a knack for developing your characters in a subtle way, your Syl gains depth with each chapter !!! Awesome Write !!!

Posted by: Acadian Apr 19 2011, 02:25 AM

Another lovely episode as Syl continues to grow. Not to sound like a broken record, but you continue to do a wonderful job of demonstrating the passage of significant chunks of time while keeping a feel to your episodes that is both intimate and immediate. To do this without overusing historical summary is a talent that really shines here.

And another crush. Part of me wants to believe Syl's optimistic prediction, but between the age difference and being a Demented elf and life as it is, I am not optimistic.

Instead, I felt something almost instinctual take over from inside me, and I carefully analyzed the distance between the target and my bow.
I know what that is! We are witnessing the birth of a bowgirl! Woohoo!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 21 2011, 11:49 PM

SubRosa:I liked your Homer Simpson link!

And I will definitely make Baenlin the same one from Bruma. How and why he goes there will be a side story that I'll work into it much later in the story... The details of it will generally be the same as I already had for him leaving the story when he does, but I never really specified where he ended up, so it will be nice to stretch my wings a little in that direction... Of course, that's quite a way off...

mALX:Yes, I figured it was a good age to introduce both the crush and the bow--so why not place them hand-in-hand? Of course, since he's not in the game, we know it doesn't last, but...how does it end and in what way...?

Acadian:Thank you! I am thrilled to know that my writing style is agreeable, because one never knows for sure... Yes, it is not likely to end well, for many reasons. Of course, there will be many surprising twists before the end truly comes... (I love hinting at these things...Hopefully I am successfully making you all want more!)

And oh yes, she will have a love for the bow, much like both Buffy and Teresa. Afterall, she is naturally pre-disposed to marksman... Blunt weapons will only draw her away from it in the future because she wants to feel more powerful and kill quicker--understandable from her perspective, I suppose.


Chapter 4.1—The Elven Maiden

One of the teachings of the Demented is that pain and pleasure are very much one and the same. I never understood this teaching until I was about thirteen. While cutting into one of the ingredients for a potion Muurine had instructed me to make, my hand slipped and I cut into my wrist. It bled pretty badly, and I gasped and quickly reached for a cloth to stop the bleeding. But then, for some reason, I just stopped and stared at the blood as it ran down my arm. The rush I felt from the adrenaline pumping through my veins was intoxicating. Suddenly, I felt more alive, and it was both exhilarating and unexpected. When I began to feel lightheaded, only then did I heal myself and clean up the blood that had dripped to the floor at my feet.

After that, I began to cut myself whenever I wanted to feel that rush again. It was like a drug, and it made it easier to forget the loneliness and the emotional pain I held bottled up inside of me. The anguish was relieved, little by little, each time I dragged the sharp blade across my flesh, and I thanked the Madgod for revealing this to me.

Over the next few years, I grew from a somewhat awkward and lonely child, into a well-grounded and elegant young woman. With my dark brown hair and my pensive, yet wild, blue eyes, I was certainly noticed by the men who were constantly around me. A lot of men, both young and old, were attracted to me, and I enjoyed the attention quite thoroughly.

Whenever my father had me show off my combat skills to the members of his court, I always drew in quite a crowd. Dressed in the unique ebony and silver http://images.uesp.net//c/c6/SI-quest-Ritual_of_Dementia_02.jpg of the Dark Seducers that my father had commissioned for me as a gift for my sixteenth birthday, when I was made an honorary commander of a regiment of Dark Seducers, I looked very good to any man who had eyes. Even though the armor didn’t look like it would do much for protecting someone, it did its job flawlessly. Of course, it helped that my armor was heavily enchanted.

On a given day, the court would assemble in the main hall, while my father sat in his throne, his steward sitting nearby. My father had so thoughtfully assigned Alanwen as my trainer, and the two of us would suit up in our armor and prepare for battle. Then we fought before my father and his court, and I proved myself to be quite a skilled fighter. The fighting was not staged, nor did we use blunted weapons. That is not the way of the Demented. However, the fighting in court was not as brutal as the fighting elsewhere, and we went fairly easy on each other…by Demented standards, anyway.

Most of the time, much to my displeasure, the fight would always end with me on my back, defeated. But I had been working extra hard to improve my skill, and one afternoon it finally showed. This time the fight ended with Alanwen on her back, the point of my sword in her face. With my intense hatred for her, I would have loved nothing more than to run my sword through her skull. I fought with myself not to do it, in front of my father and the entire court, for what seemed like a millennium, though it was only a few seconds, in actuality.

The only thing that really stopped me from exacting my revenge on her was that she smiled slightly, impressed, and spoke to me. “You have learned very quickly, Syl. I shall have to watch my back.”

“Yes,” I replied, still holding the sword in her face and glaring hatefully at the woman I believed had murdered my mother. “And I’ll watch mine.”

She raised a brow as I got up from her and threw down my sword, after my father had risen from his throne and begun to clap his hands. It had taken all of my strength not to run her through just then, though I know it would have meant imprisonment and possibly even torture for me. But I would have her yet. Now was not the time for revenge.

My father came to me, placing his hands upon my shoulders and looking at me with a father’s pride, as his mistress pulled herself up to her feet. The two of us locked eyes as my father embraced me, and it was obvious that neither one of us trusted the other—however, this was the first time she had ever perceived me as a possible threat.

After my father praised and congratulated me, he went to Alanwen, and I was approached by his steward just as I was pulling off my gauntlets. Lucian Jarol was a man of noble Imperial ancestry, apparently also blue-blooded. He was handsome, even at the age of 43, and he’d had his eye on me ever since I began blossoming into a young woman. I was hardly interested in a man of his age, especially considering his reputation with women, but I still liked the attention, and I’ll admit I did flirt with him from time to time.

“You fought very well today,” he said, taking my hand and pressing it to his lips like a complete gentleman. “Your skill is exceptional. I’m quite impressed, milady.”

“Thanks,” I replied, shrugging as if it were nothing. I flashed him a look with my eyes just to tease, and began walking away, but he caught up to walk beside me and kept talking.

“You know, Syl, I am a very wealthy man, even without my position as your father’s steward. My family is one of the oldest and most prominent families in all of Dementia, and I am the only one left to hold all of the wealth they had brought with them from Tamriel. My ancestors were descended from kings, you know.”

I smiled, trying not to laugh, because I knew what he was doing. “And…your point is…?”

He stopped me by taking my arm, looking straight into my eyes. The intensity of his gaze made me shudder, and I was surprised by his abrupt and informal manner with me.

“I have much to offer to a beautiful and well-bred young woman, such as yourself.”

“What can you give me that my father cannot?”

“I can offer you freedom,” he replied, as we began to walk again. “And a title…I am a lord, you know.”

“Yes, I do know… But what makes you think I want to marry you?”

He smiled. “I can see in your eyes that you are interested.”

“In being tied down? No, thank you.”

He stopped again, taking my arms and looking at me intently. “I will not deny that I want you, Syl. Say you will be my wife, and I’ll give you everything that you desire—including the freedom to come and go as you please.”

I pulled away, taking his hands off me. “And if I say ‘no’? Will you try to murder me for refusing you?”

Laughing, he reached out to take my hand again and pressed it to his lips. “You have a wonderful sense of humor…. The answer is, no—I shall not murder you. Apart from the fact that your father would surely execute me, I have no desire to ever hurt you, Syl. And I would never force a woman to be with me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I replied, as I had heard differently.

“You are bold,” he said, his jaw flexing.

“I am honest,” I retorted. Then he shrugged.

“Perhaps…but that was meant to be a compliment. I like brazen women.” He paused here to look me over. His eyes burned with desire, and he went on to say, “I will not deny that once you make the decision to be my wife--.”

“If,” I corrected him.

“Yes,” he sighed, “—if you make the decision to be my wife, you will be expected to remain completely loyal to me.”

“What would happen if I were not?”

His jaw set firmly and I could see that he did not like my question. “I will not tolerate infidelity. I had enough experience of that with my first wife.”

“Your first wife—what happened to her, exactly? Did you kill her when she was unfaithful to you?”

He laughed again. “I do like your feistiness. And your sarcasm…. It’s enticing.”

“You wish to tame me,” I observed.

“I want to ride you,” he replied hungrily, pulling me close to his body in a moment of impassioned fervor. “I like my horses wild.”

I should have slapped him; he would certainly have deserved it. But his intensity was almost intoxicating, and I had never been with a man before, though I wanted to be. His forcefulness was exciting to me, a naïve and innocent elven maiden who had lived a very sheltered life. I had wanted to experience the fullness of my womanhood ever since I began turning into one; but I managed to control my youthful urge, and I pulled myself away from him.

“I am not a horse,” I said, feigning insult at his last comment. “I am a lady, and you will speak to me as such. Good day.”

I began to walk away, toward my quarters, but Lucian followed and stopped me from going inside. He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me aside, where we were hidden around the corner, by the rarely used alternate door to my father’s private garden. Someone was walking in the corridor nearby, so we were very quiet, as Lucian held me close to his body in the shadows. When the servant was gone, having turned down another corridor, I pulled away from him and slapped him across the face.

“How dare you put your hands on me?! I could have you thrown in the dungeon! Don’t think that my father would even hesitate to torture you for your indecency.”

“Please,” he said, “I meant no disrespect, honored madwoman. But how long are you going to go on teasing me the way you do? What I said before, and what I did just now—I simply meant….”

“I know what you meant,” I said, cutting him off. “But you are a fool if you think I would give into your advances in such a way. I am an innocent woman, sir—but you would treat me like a common harlot.”

“No, milady, I…I never meant to treat you in such a way.” He dropped to his knees to beg my forgiveness, reaching up to grab me by the waist, touching my bare flesh, and making me yearn for more. But he only meant to plead with me, saying, “Milady, please, forgive my insolence. I got carried away. You have this power over me that I cannot understand…. Can’t you see that I want you for myself?”

“As your wife, or as your harlot? You have not made your intentions all that clear to me, madman.”

“Syl, I want you to be my wife. I want to give you all that you desire and more. I want to share with you my fortune, my manor, and my bed. Please. Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

“Why would I want to do that? I am barely sixteen, milord—hardly ready to settle down and be a wife, when I haven’t even begun yet to live. Besides, I’m not sure that I trust you.”

“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you mean. I do not dispose of women in such a manner. The only women I have ever killed were lovers who were trying to kill me for my money.”

“And how many has that been?”

“Well, most of them, actually,” he replied with a grin that seemed out of place.

“And how do you know that I won’t do the same?” I asked, returning his smile.

He chuckled and took my hand, placing it on his arm. “We shall just have to trust each other, won’t we?”

Now I smiled; but then I pulled away and began walking toward my quarters. He followed me again, but I stopped him at the door. “I’m sorry, honored madman, but I am not interested in your offer. Now, if you’ll excuse me—I need to get changed, and I do not want your company while I do so.”

He sighed in disappointment and stepped back as I closed the door in his face. Just to be on the safe side, as I did not trust him at all, I locked the door and left the key inside, to prevent him from peeping, should he desire to take such a risk.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 22 2011, 12:47 AM

So Syl has discovered cutting? It seems like a perfect fit for the Demented. Likewise the belief that pleasure and pain are intertwined.

Syl has indeed gone through a rite of womanhood, being accosted by a persistent pervert. And one who is 3 times her age no less. I cannot tell you how many times I have had men literally follow me around. Once even after I got in my car and drove off. I was on my way to the police station when he finally gave up and turned down another street.

I am sure we will not be seeing the last of Lucian. Given that this is Dementia, I am sure it can only end one way, with someone stretched out on the floor in a widening pool of blood. Likewise, now that Alanwen has discovered Syl to be a real threat, I am sure we will be seeing a final reckoning there as well. Things are certainly looking exciting!


nits:
but you would treat me like a common wh*re.
I feel you pain here, as the forum swear filter will change the word you want. But putting a * in the middle of it does not look good. I suggest using a word that will pass the filter. Such as strumpet, harlot, or tramp.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 22 2011, 01:21 AM

A delightfully hormonal episode that fits both darkly and perfectly into Dementia.

First, Syl discovers an intoxicating relationship between pleasure and pain. Fortunately, healing spells entirely change the fabric of 'practicing bleeding'. Secondly, she battles with an understandable desire to 'run her through' after dropping Alanwen to the floor at swordpoint. After all, Syl believes Alanwen to be responsible for the death of her mother and trespassing into her father's affection. I agree with SubRosa, that I suspect Syl and Alanwen are far from done with each other. Finally, Syl is both repulsed and intoxicated by the older Lucian's ardent advances. I suspect that even at her young age, she is fully his equal at teasing, enticing and thwarting ardor. In each of these cases, you do a superb job of capturing what Syl is feeling.

I'm thoroughly enjoying this!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 22 2011, 01:28 AM

Yes, it's very painful to be censored when I want to use more realistic language for some things... *sighs in disappointment* But I understand, so I will change it to harlot. There are times I use the word 'harlot' anyway--I try to use whichever term is more fitting at the time... But, alas! I must behave.

Yes, Lucian is not someone we will grow fond of in anyway, to say the least... Oh, that's just awful how you were followed. Thankfully you weren't hurt. I've had some perverts bother me, too, but I've managed to protect myself well enough, thankfully. Ugh, even just today I had some new guy at the Beth forums try to solicit me through the PMs, and I was like, um, no way! He gave up after I told him I was married and had two kids, so I won't report him unless he decides to bother me again. The nerve of some guys...

And yes, I thought cutting would be a fitting thing, though it's a rather disturbing and very sad thing for someone to do to themselves. But I can understand it from a psychological point of view, and I feel great compassion for anyone who does it. I just hope they get help, of course...

Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 22 2011, 02:29 AM

I would report this guy anyway. My reason is simple. He did it to you, he will do it to others as well (especially those with avatars like yours). And the next person he harasses may not have the balls to chase him off, and he can end up making that person miserable and even drive him/her off the forum. Keeping silent about his behavior only condones something that is inexcusable.

In addition, let me add this. I haven't commented on your story because others are already doing such a great job of it. But I want to let you know that I am reading this and finding it very well written and a very interesting perspective. Though I don't like the Shivering Isles storyline, its foray into madness and the psychological ramifications of the choices you are given in this storyline are fascinating. And the Duchess of Mania is one of the most fascinating characters in this expansion as far as I'm concerned. I'm glad you decided to tackle her story and tell us her perspective.

Posted by: Thomas Kaira Apr 22 2011, 02:38 AM

Argh... those forums can harbor some terrible idiots. Not nearly as bad as the Nexus, but still....

Syl has discovered EEEEEMO!!! NOOOOO!!!

Well, to be more serious, masochism is a good way to hammer home the point of this realm being one where the abnormal is normal. If Syl does enjoy spilling her own blood, that's her decision, but I'm going to have to draw the line on if she decides to try a bit of body-painting. She's a madwoman, not a savage.

Now, if you have Syl fall in love with a lion-man, we could probably call that envious pillock Gaston! He is a bit smoother than him, but nevertheless, he is not the kind of guy I would want to hang out with, and I am glad Syl was able to resist his advances despite her attraction.

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 22 2011, 02:44 AM

Thanks for the advice. He has now been reported.

Posted by: Thomas Kaira Apr 22 2011, 02:47 AM

Good choice. One less pervert to harass those forums can only be a good thing.

Posted by: mALX Apr 24 2011, 01:02 AM

I agree with SubRosa, the shock of Syl being a cutter was quickly replaced by the feeling of it being apropos for what we know of her in game and in your story. Bravo for slipping that in and letting it hit us like a ton of bricks and knock us off our seats.

Syl is def growing up in this one, liking the tease; fearing the actual game. Awesome Write !!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 25 2011, 05:03 PM

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.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 25 2011, 06:26 PM

The Duke’s Delinquent Daughter
Alliteration ftw!

Youth is often coupled with ignorance, and risk-taking is all too common
Yep, some things never change.

the live entertainment—which usually consisted of my father’s enemies being tortured in one form or another.
Ahh, now that is good old fashioned fun!

So Syl has gone to her first wild party, and had her first pony ride. I thought your depiction of her first time was excellent, because it is so common to reality. No earthquakes, no fireworks. It's just sex, and then it's over, and on comes the awkward morning after. Except with Syl it was still the night before!

Galvon seems to want a lot more from their relationship than Syl is capable of giving. I wonder if he really feels anything for her, or if perhaps he is just using her because of her position as the Duke's daughter? I get the feeling that if the Duke finds out, he will be the 'entertainment' at the next party though.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 26 2011, 12:39 AM

I was completely swept into Syl's evening for a time, and hope you will take that as testament to your skill. Nicely done!

It is good that Syl's first time is behind her, yet I feel a touch of sadness that it was not more special for her. At least she knew the fellow's name.

Your vague references to the sadistic/masochistic nature of the party games were so very and appropriately . . . Demented.

Posted by: mALX Apr 28 2011, 09:02 AM

Syl seems to have a detachment about her life that wasn't there in the early chapters, even after her mothers murder. I noticed some of this in game even with her paranoia. You depicted it well - like seeing a window into where it evolved and a few of the catalysts that brought it about.

Like Acadian, I hate to see her first time be because she was drunk and flirting - not filled with the feelings it may have been had the man been Thadon. Of course the first time is always awkward and not given to experiencing fireworks, etc. - but to have no emotional attachment to either the man or the act - that is a sad beginning for her.

All I can say is ... hope to heck she doesn't become PG from it, lol. Great Chapter !!!

Posted by: Lady Syl Apr 29 2011, 07:36 PM

SubRosa:Thank you, and yes--it was important that I not get into the cliche of portraying Syl's first time as this wonderful experience complete with fireworks and all of that, simply because I wanted to portray a realistic first-time experience. And also, I wanted to show what happens when someone who lives a sheltered life gets their first taste of freedom...

Also, your insights are always so good and inspiring. Your commentary is much valued, as is the commentary of all my readers!

Acadian:Thanks! I am glad you enjoyed her night as much as her!

And I agree that it's better she knew his name, and at least had something of a relationship with him. Not perhaps what there should have been, but that is sadly how it so often is.

Also, glad you enjoyed my description of the Demented nature of the parties. Yes, somehow I don't think the residents of Bliss would be too fond of the parties held in Crucible, that's for sure.

mALX:I am so glad you caught onto the detachment that really started with the onset of adolescence for her. It's like she sort of developed a way of distancing herself from her own life, as a means of protecting herself from all the pain and sorrow and darkness that life in Dementia really throws at you.

And not to worry - according to lore, elves aren't usually fertile until they reach full maturity. So, she should have another year or two before she has that to worry about...hopefully....



Chapter 5.1—Blood and Wine

While I did remain friends with Galvon, I wanted to forget about that night with him and to keep our relationship platonic. I knew that he didn’t like it, but I reminded him that I never promised him anything, and I continued to enjoy myself at Shavari’s parties while trying to behave myself. Of course, the mixture of alcohol and youth did not allow for constant success, but I was pretty good at controlling myself when faced with the advances of all the men at the parties who would have loved to sleep with the Duke’s daughter. I rarely gave into the raging lust, much to the dissatisfaction of many men.

Muurine didn’t like it when I began returning home a little tipsy. She expressed her concerns, warning me about the dangers getting drunk could pose. “Too many of the young people like to get drunk at parties nowadays,” she said to me, “leaving them vulnerable to be mugged in the streets or taken advantage of—or, Madgod forbid, even worse….”

I rolled my eyes, too foolish and young to listen to her advice, saying, “Oh, Madgod.... Muurine, you’re starting to sound like my father, always worried about me, and for no reason. I’m fine. None of my friends would ever take advantage of me—they don’t need to.” I stopped to chuckle a bit, then finished by saying, “I give of myself enough rather freely.”

I laughed at my joke, but Muurine didn’t even flinch. She was not amused. “Syl, I am serious. You are acting like a fool. You are going to get yourself killed if you keep all this up, and then I’ll be left to take the blame when your father decides to execute me for allowing you to act like this.”

“You’re not allowing me, remember? You’re not supposed to know.”

She sighed in frustration and threw up her hands, then climbed into bed and went to sleep without even saying goodnight. And so, I had won the argument—for now. The next morning, however, it was Muurine who felt she had won.

I slept late, missing breakfast—much to my father’s displeasure—and I woke up with a splitting headache. Muurine laughed a little, saying, “I remember those days….”

“Ohh…. Just tell me how to make it go away….” I laid in the bed, holding my forehead and feeling like I was on the brink of death. If I wasn’t going to die, right then I certainly wanted to. Nothing could have been as bad as how I felt at that moment, so I thought. Unfortunately, Muurine couldn’t give me any relief.

“Sorry, dear,” she said, sitting on the side of the bed and giving me a damp cloth to hold over my eyes. “There are no spells or potions to relieve hangovers.”

“Well, there should be!” I exclaimed. That was followed by a miserable, “Ohh….”

Muurine laughed again, shaking her head as she moved some hair away from my face. “I told you that you shouldn’t be getting drunk at those parties…. You missed breakfast. Your father was not pleased. You’re lucky I covered for you, though.”

“Thanks,” I said, with a touch of sarcasm.

“Now do you think you’ll stop drinking too much at the parties?”

“You think I got drunk on purpose? I wasn’t trying to drink too much, Muurine. It just happened.”

“You don’t have to get drunk, you know. It’s a matter of listening to your body. When you start to feel the alcohol affecting you, stop.”

“That’s easier said than done,” I replied, unwilling to listen to her words of wisdom. Again, young and foolish….

“Well,” she said, “if you go on doing this to yourself, then it serves you right. No one has ever been successful in finding a cure for hangovers, though many have tried. You just have to take some responsibility upon yourself, or you’re going to suffer.”

“You’re not helping,” I grumbled. When she started to respond, I launched my pillow at her, and said, “Stop talking! Just let me suffer in peace!”

She chuckled a bit and returned my pillow to me, then got up to walk toward the door, every clank of her high-heeled shoes on the stone floor making my head pound as if it were going to shatter to pieces.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” she said, before leaving. “Your father believes you are ill. He insisted on sending for a healer, but I assured him it was a minor ailment, which should be over by the end of the day on its own…. Perhaps you should think twice about going out again tonight. But, if I know you—which I do—you won’t.”

She was right. I went out again that very night, doing the same thing all over again. I could have prevented myself from getting drunk. I felt what Muurine had been talking about. But everyone else was doing it, and I didn’t want to be left out. So, I joined in and drank too much, regretting it again in the morning. Muurine refused to cover for me again, so I had to go about my day as if nothing were wrong, while she chuckled and smirked; and I hated her all the more because of it.

Apart from Shavari and Galvon, my usual group of friends included an Imperial from my father’s court named Una Armina, whose dream of one day running a museum of sorts would one day come true; and Shavari’s brother, K’Shar. K’Shar was the only Khajiit I was ever intimate with, but mostly we enjoyed each other’s sense of humor. Galvon was jealous that I spent more time joking around with K’Shar than I did doing anything with him, but he would get over it. After all, he was not the first and only person I was friends with. In fact, I had several friends, but the one I would get along with the most for awhile was a newcomer to the group, a Bosmer from Ashwood who came to New Sheoth as an apprentice to the master smith.

“They call me Cutter,” she said, when introduced to me one night at a party. “Evelin is my given name, but don’t ever call me that, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

She spoke in a slow drawl when she said this, and the look in her eyes convinced me that she wasn’t joking. I shuddered as I shook her hand, and asked, “Why do they call you Cutter?”

“I like to cut things,” she answered with a dark smile. “There’s nothing more satisfying than the sound of a sharp blade piercing someone’s flesh, or the feel of it slicing through your own.”

I didn’t know what to say after that, but Cutter smiled and changed the subject. After talking for a little while, I found myself growing more comfortable with her, and we hit it off after that. We were exactly the same age, and we even had the same birthday, which bonded us together, in a way. Her eyes were hazel, and she always wore dark eye-shadow around them, and blood-red paint upon her lips. This style she got me to wear for awhile and the men seemed to like us all the more because of it. My father wasn’t fond of it, but he didn’t pay much attention to me at this point.

http://images.uesp.net//a/a3/SI-npc-Cutter.jpg

Cutter was a very interesting person. She was much less shy than me, though I was certainly not a wall-flower, and she helped me to loosen up more around the rest of the bunch. She quickly became the life of the party, one could say, and we got along well because we had much of the same interests—most notably, playing with knives and fooling around with men.

Once a week, at her urging, we began going to the tavern at night, which was then simply called The Crucible Inn. The tavern was owned by a disgusting orc named Sharag gro-Ghoth, and his brother, Borzol. Sharag didn’t like us being in there much, because we never bought anything and we only came in to flirt with his customers. But we went anyway, and he couldn’t really kick us out, because as far as he knew, we weren’t doing anything illegal.

The first couple nights, we only flirted with the men and got them to pay for our drinks. But one night, Cutter came up with an idea. She wouldn’t tell me what it was at first; all she told me was that I needed to change into more conspicuous apparel.

“What could be more conspicuous than what I’m already wearing?” I asked, puzzled by her suggestion.

“You need to look appealing, but not wealthy. If the men at the tavern realize who you are, this will never work.” She threw some of her own clothing at me, and said, “Here, put this on.”

Cutter decided that we should seek out wealthy looking men with an interest in Wood Elves, and a willingness to participate in our little games. We would convince a man to take us up to his room, thinking he could have his way with us, and then we would get him to let us tie him to the bed. Once that was done, and his clothes all off, we would make off with his money while we left him tied up. The men never reported us because they were too ashamed and embarrassed, so we got away with it.

Of course, not all the men were into being tied up, so we had to come up with other ways of tricking them. With my growing knowledge of alchemy, I was able to create an elixir that one of us could slip into their drinks while the other distracted them by showing some skin and flirting. By the time they’d get us up to their room, they were in such a state of incompetence that we were easily able to make off with whatever money or valuables they had on them. One bonus my elixir added to our crimes was that it left the men with absolutely no memory of what had led to them being robbed. Once we realized this, we decided to use my elixir every time.

The whole thing was just for thrills, and for the money, as Cutter’s pay as an apprentice was meager, and I didn’t receive any sort of an allowance from my father. I would never have thought up this little scheme on my own, but Cutter had a way of getting people to do things that they might not normally do.

When we weren’t at Shavari’s parties, or picking up foolish lusty men at the tavern, Cutter and I would go to the smith shop, where she lived with the master smith of New Sheoth, who was training her to take over one day. The master smith, Morga gra-Shadborgob, was the most pleasant and agreeable orcish woman I had ever met, and she always welcomed me when Cutter brought me home with her. She left us alone most of the time, and she never told anyone that I was sneaking out of the palace, though she knew without question who I was.

Her six-year-old son, Ushnar, however was a different story. He would always pester us, until Morga sent her grown son, Dumag, to take him back to his bed and get him to sleep. Ushnar was an interesting child, friendly, just like his mother; but he had a terrible fear of cats which had been with him since he was very small. He had a childish crush on Cutter, which was why he always pestered us, but she had an eye for Dumag. I couldn’t understand her interest in an orc, but that’s where our tastes differed. I didn’t mind Dumag as a friend, but he wasn’t quite as friendly as his mother and little brother. He wasn’t disagreeable, but neither was he pleasant.

Once left alone, we would often lie on the bed in Cutter’s small chamber together, talking and laughing like young women often do, and we usually shared a bottle of red wine together, drinking straight from the bottle. Then, when we felt like it, we would take out one of our daggers and use it on ourselves, and on each other. Allowing ourselves to bleed for awhile before healing the cuts, we would lie there and stare at the ceiling, relishing the pain.

Sometimes Cutter would ask to taste my blood, and I would let her. When she asked me to taste hers, however, I was not so open to it. I have never liked the taste of blood, and contrary to popular belief, I do not drink the blood of my enemies.

There was but one time when I was willing to taste her blood, as part of some ritual she thought up. “I want us to be blood-sisters,” she explained to me.

I was hesitant, but she was adamant, and so I gave in. Then we pulled out my dagger—a unique dark blade resembling the swords of the Dark Seducers, made from obsidian—and she went first, cutting my wrist and holding it out to let the blood drip into a cup. Then she handed the dagger back to me and offered her wrist, saying, “Now it is your turn. Cut me and let my blood pour into the cup to mingle with yours, so that we may drink it. When this is complete, we will share a bond that can never be broken, but by death.”

The thought of drinking anyone’s blood almost made my stomach turn, but I swallowed my discomfort and took the dagger. She was eager with anticipation, holding her arm out for me and waiting almost impatiently. I had no qualms about cutting her, and I sliced the blade across her wrist with ease. Then I waited while her blood dripped into the cup with my own, and we healed our cuts with a potion I had made earlier that day.

Smiling wickedly, Cutter used her finger to stir the blood together, and then tasted it from her finger, gasping with delight. Then she lifted the cup into the air, and said, “Spirits of darkness, sisters in blood let us be—an unbreakable bond; in blood unity!”

After saying this strange chant, she lifted the cup to her lips and drank from it. Taking it in for a moment, she closed her eyes and savored the taste, while I watched with a mixture of disgust, apprehension, and curiosity. When she handed the cup to me, I looked down into it, seeing just enough of our blood left for me, and then I looked back up at her with uncertainty.

“Go on,” she said, almost feverishly, “drink it! Drink, and we shall be sisters for as long as our blood fills our veins!”

Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and brought the cup to my lips. The crimson liquid was still warm, and the strong iron taste made me nearly cringe. I had to fight not to gag, thinking too much about what it was I was drinking, and when I had finished what was left in the cup, I set it down and looked at Cutter. She was more than satisfied, and I had to force a smile so she would not grow offended.

“Now, we are blood-sisters,” she said in a deep, slow voice. Her lips were still red with blood, and some even ran down her chin. It was chilling. But at the same time, it was exciting.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 29 2011, 11:16 PM

Syl's first hangover! Not the last from the looks of it either. I see like most people, she did not learn tolerance from her experience.

But everyone else was doing it, and I didn’t want to be left out.
Ahh, to be a teen. It is not easy being different from everyone else. Especially when you are as young as Syl.

Nice to meet more NPCs whom we know from SI, like Una and Ushnar. But best of all Cutter! She is one of my favorite NPCs in the game, not to mention the SI. Not in the least because she is a goth girl. I love her lines about blood and ripping bodies apart. It is wonderful to see her here as an apprentice to the previous smith.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 30 2011, 01:24 AM

Syl continues to evolve and transform episode by episode as she grows darker. You are really managing this well!

Looking back, she has come a long way since her kiss with the little boy addicted to chocolate. When the little fairy princess talks about torturing her foes someday, the talk is beginning to match her actions. Again, very carefully crafted in such a way that everything she gets into seems to flow naturally for her. Cutter, and her influence on Syl, seems quite significant.

Posted by: mALX Apr 30 2011, 04:58 PM

Syl's experimentation into the dark side of SI is leading her in a downward spiral she won't easily pull herself up from. I wonder if Cutter is somehow connected to the pretty girl that watched her from the borders that day she was with Thadon? Great Write !!

Posted by: Lady Syl May 2 2011, 06:08 PM

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.

Posted by: SubRosa May 2 2011, 07:49 PM

That was an embarrassing scene in the streets with Galvon! I wonder if Syl's father heard of it? If so, I suspect it will go badly for both Syl and Galvon. But especially Galvon!

OTOH, when Syl was accosted in the alley, I was expecting it to be Galvon attacking her. What a lovely twist to have him come to the rescue (because he was undoubtedly following her as well).

and I will not be tied down to a life of quiet submission with anyone!
I practically cheered when I read this! Go Syl!

“I love you, and I know that you will not go on this way forever.”
This almost made me laugh. Such a wonderful switch of the traditional gender roles here. It is usually the woman who is dumb enough to believe that her a-hole b/f who treats her like crap will change his ways because he really loves her. So pleasant to see it the other way around!



nits:
He began untying my corset from the front
Corsets are laced in the back. Bodices are laced in the front. The reason is that corsets are made for the wealthy, who have servants to tie them up for them. Bodices are for everyone else, who have to tie them themselves. (although I have corsets, and can tie them myself. You just need a mirror and some practice.) Plus, you also said that one of the thugs used a dagger to cut through the laces of her bodice a few paragraphs earlier.

Posted by: Lady Syl May 2 2011, 09:20 PM

Ah, yes, I see what you mean. I'm into corsets, too, but I've never had a real one....

I'll change it--since she was sneaking around she'll have on a bodice, and I'll remove the corset... I was thinking she had a corset underneath, but I guess that wouldn't make sense... :facepalm:

Posted by: Acadian May 3 2011, 02:18 AM

Such delicately painted but steady growth Syl continues to portray. In this episode she strikes me for the first time as a fully grown young woman. She is still young and I have no doubt she will continue to grow a great deal, but she knows her own mind and makes choices that have some thought behind them.

The scene where she was accosted and held at knife point was especially well done in terms of providing a foreboding atmosphere of darkness, right down to the fog that blanketed Crucible. What a rich backdrop you provide!

Nit? What I'm going to offer is very subjective, so please simply consider it and feel free to disregard it if you choose. You have a tendency to perhaps over embellish your speech tags or render them redundant. Trust your readers to grasp your intent with a lighter touch. Some examples:

“Don’t lie to me!” I spat, glaring at him with fury.
The words themselves, the '!', spat, glare, fury - one or perhaps two of those things is enough to make the point.

“But, Syl, I…love you!” he cried, pouring his heart out to me.
His words and the '!' and cried all make it clear he is pouring his heart out.

“Get up! Stop making a fool of yourself, Galvon!” I said sternly.
The words and the '!' leave no doubt that Syl's tone was stern.

“P-Please,” I begged, in a trembling voice, “let me go….”
The P-Please makes it clear her voice is trembling.

“My f-father is the Duke,” I stammered fearfully.
The f-father makes it clear she is stammering.

My recommendation is to, whenever possible, tend to favor letting the dialogue itself convey the emotion. Do not avoid simple speech tags like 'I said' that do the job of telling us who is speaking in a most unobtrusive and almost invisible manner.

Posted by: mALX May 3 2011, 04:50 AM

Powerful scenes in this one, Syl continues to push everyone away from her. I hope she got her dagger back !!! Great Chapter !!!!

Posted by: Lady Syl May 5 2011, 08:44 PM

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….

Posted by: SubRosa May 5 2011, 11:32 PM

Syl's homecoming to Muurine shows just how much the two have drifted apart. Where once Muurine was the central figure in her life, now she is merely one more moon in orbit of our, older, wilder wood elf.

I was not surprised to learn that her father knew what was going on (well probably not the being attacked part, and the wild sex) But no more goth makeup!

I loved Syl's musing near the end, about how life changes you between your youth and maturity. It is amazing how your feelings, views, and priorities change. In the case of Syl it is her paranoia. But to a less graphic extent, it happens to all of us. This is a good touch, as it helps us feel empathy for the older Syl.

Posted by: Acadian May 6 2011, 01:24 AM

Syl's interactions with Muurine spoke to truth and were very natural.

Her musings near the end made perfect sense and were quite poignant, shedding more light on her transformation. It seems she still burns a torch for Thadon.

This is wonderful to read!

Posted by: mALX May 6 2011, 03:28 AM

I don't think I could say it better than SubRosa did. She pulled out everything in this chapter that I planned to comment on - and said it better than I could have, lol.

In the poigniency of that last scene is the confession that may be her reason for shoving everyone away - her feelings for Thadon. I wondered when that would begin again, and hope the story won't skip to it already in full swing. I would love to hear the details on their re-connection.

AWESOME WRITE !!! WOO HOO !!!

Posted by: Lady Syl May 9 2011, 10:09 PM

SubRosa: What a disappointment, right? No more parties, no more sex, no more goth makeup! Ada is laying down the law once again, but will Syl submit? She can only take so much confinement before she needs to break free--a bird cannot do well trapped inside a tiny gilded cage. You hit it right when you pointed out the changes in Syl's relationship with Muurine, also. Eloquently spoken!

Acadian: Though I don't want to do it too often, I do like having her swing back to the present sometimes as she writes. Hinting at what is to come while offering a little more depth into her current thoughts and feelings about her past is essential to her character, I think.

And that torch she burns for Thadon is surely what gets them both into trouble at the end. Sheogorath will not tolerate it forever, though he does so enjoy toying with them and watching them squirm. In many ways, I intend to paint Sheogorath as something of a villain in this story, as he rightly is. However, even he is cursed with madness, so he is a likeable villain--we feel torn right along with Syl, as far as the Madgod is concerned...

mALX: Yes, SubRosa has an excellent and beautiful way of speaking--she pulls it all out so nicely in the way she writes, I agree.

And I'm so glad you noticed the struggle in Syl-the pushing and pulling of everyone in her life, as she grows and develops will be a key feature in her story. In a way, she is tormented by the struggle of good and evil, more so than most people perhaps, because of the Realm of madness... Her spirit is good and light, but the insanity which inflicts her fights to consume her in its darkness. We see the result of it in the game, somewhat, of course.

And not to worry--there is a great deal to cover before I get to the end. I'll cover most of Syl's life between the first and second books, so there is much more to come!



Chapter 6.1--Matchmaker

Sneaking out of the palace after my father had told me no more parties was entirely impossible, as he had a Dark Seducer posted right outside my door like a sentinel, day and night. Muurine was chastised for allowing me to go, even though I swore to my father that she knew nothing about it. He knew better than to believe us, and he sent Muurine away, saying that I had no need for a governess anymore. She went back to living at her uncle’s house again, so she was still nearby, and Father always allowed her to visit. At least this way she had more freedom to do as she pleased, and she didn’t have to be so tied down to raising me, especially now that I was grown.

My father promised that if he saw enough improvement in my studies, I may be allowed to go out on occasion, with an escort and a chaperone, to make sure no one might try to harm me. But what he would consider satisfactory improvement was nearly impossible to accomplish, and my life became dull and tedious. I needed an escape—a way out of this pointless existence. But with the Dark Seducer standing guard over me everywhere I went, that seemed to be out of the question, and the only thing I could do to enjoy myself was to go into the practice chamber to work on my combat skills, which had been greatly reduced because of my neglect.

Most of the time I stuck with blades and bows, both of which I had developed a passion for. I enjoyed hunting with my father from time to time, but he had lost interest of late, and he would not allow me to go out alone, so I was on the verge of giving up archery altogether. But then an old friend showed up, right in the nick of time.

Sindorin had not been to Crucible in nearly seven years. He was little changed since that time—but I was a completely different story. Now that I was a grown woman of seventeen, Sindorin didn’t even recognize me when Muurine brought him to the palace the day he arrived for a visit. I had been out walking the palace grounds—the closest thing to freedom I got anymore—when they came in the door from Crucible. He took one look at me, and he was swept away. He stopped in his tracks and looked at me with his mouth agape and his eyes wide with attraction. Muurine stood silently when I approached them, waiting for him to figure out who I was on his own.

“Good day, madwoman,” he said, bowing politely and pressing my hand to his lips. He could barely take his eyes off me, and I can’t begin to express how good it made me feel—finally, after all those years, he saw me not as a child, but as a woman.

“Good day,” I replied with a lady-like dip, looking at him intently, and waiting for him to realize who I was. Unlike Muurine, though, I wasn’t patient enough to wait, so I dropped a subtle hint. “It is so good to see you again, Sindorin of Ashwood. It has been so long.”

He looked at me for a moment, completely dumbfounded. “Sorry, do I…do I know you?”

Muurine choked back a laugh while I smiled with amusement at his confusion. Then I said, “Have you forgotten me already? It has only been seven years. I’ve not changed so much, except, perhaps, that I have grown…”

Realizing suddenly who I was, he gasped and looked me over, surprised and perhaps even a bit uncomfortable. “Syl?! By the Madgod, look at you! You’re all grown up!”

“Does this surprise you?”

“Well, no; I mean, ah…I just wasn’t expecting you to be so…so grown up…”

Muurine shook her head and chuckled, placing her hands on his shoulders, but speaking to me. “He means appealing.”

“No, I don’t!” he protested, blushing a bit. Then he turned back to me, and said, “I mean…it’s not that you’re…not appealing; it’s just that…well, I’m sure it would not be appropriate for me to…. Aunt Muurine, you’re not helping!”

“Why don’t we go inside,” I suggested, trying to ease his discomfort. “I’m sure my father would be glad to see you.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” he agreed. Then we all started toward the palace.

As we walked up the stairs together, Muurine turned to me, and whispered, “He means appealing.”

I giggled and glanced over at Sindorin, who seemed all too embarrassed and uncomfortable. Then we went inside the House of Dementia to see my father. He was glad to see Sindorin, as he had always been fond of him. He was like the son that my father had never had, and the two of them got along perfectly in those days.

After catching up with my father for awhile, Sindorin excused himself and went out to the palace grounds alone. He seemed to be in a more solemn mood than what was normal for him, and Muurine prompted me to follow after him when my father became distracted again with you know who….

Sindorin was standing on the lower battlements, leaning on the railing and gazing pensively out at the waterfalls that cascaded from the mountains nearby. He didn’t hear me approaching, so I startled him when I said, “I thought you had left.”

He turned his head to look at me as he startled, then he let out a sigh and stood up, smiling faintly as he tried to avoid looking at me. “No, I was…just getting some fresh air.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“About what’s bothering you,” I replied. “Or, am I mistaken?”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “You’re not mistaken….” He paused for a moment and looked up at me finally, and I could see the longing in his eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting you to have changed so much.”

“Does this displease you?”

“No, not at all. On the contrary, it…it overwhelms me….”

“In what way?”

He looked at me again for a moment, and then asked, “Do you really not know, Syl? Are you truly that naïve; or are you simply playing with me as women often like to do with men?”

I didn’t reply. I honestly didn’t know what to say. It was a bit of both—I was delighted by his attraction to me, and I longed to hear him come right out and say it. But I also had a hard time believing it was true, if only because I had dreamed of this for so long. Finally, he sighed and let out a despairing groan.

“You were only a child when I saw you last! And now…you’re a woman. And you’re…you’re…. By the Madgod! You’re beautiful. I never thought I could have these kinds of feelings for you, Syl. I’m thirty-seven years old, and you’re just a child to me. And yet…you’re not. You…you’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen, and I feel… like it’s wrong for me to feel this way for you. And yet…nothing feels more right.”

He became quiet suddenly, and he dared himself to look up at me again, curious to see how I was going to react to his outburst of despair. I stood there, quiet and serene, watching him thoughtfully as he examined my face for any hint of what I was thinking. Then he let out a sigh of frustration. “Madgod, you’re impossible to read!” he cried, throwing up his hands and turning away in shame, saying, “I’m sorry I ever said anything. I should have known better….”

Before he could leave or say anything more, I reached up and took him by the face, bringing his lips down to mine and kissing him passionately. He was stunned, but then he settled into the kiss and wrapped him arms around me, kissing back. When we stopped, he looked at me with question, unsure of what to say, or even to think. I smiled.

“Don’t you see?” I asked quietly, with tears in my eyes. “I have longed for the moment you would say these things to me, ever since I was that little girl on your shoulder. I just never thought this day would ever really come.”

He looked at me a moment longer, in disbelief. Then a soft smile spread across his lips, and he bent down to kiss me again. Everything about that moment seemed perfect, and I never wanted it to end. Nothing could have brought me down from that place of sheer bliss—until we heard Muurine’s voice coming from behind us, and we both came back to reality.

“Well, what have we here?” she was asking, a knowing smile on her lips. “Is that my nephew locking lips with my Syl? How exquisite! The two of you would make a charming couple, I daresay.”

We were both embarrassed that we’d been caught, but at least it was only Muurine. If it had been anyone else, it might not have gone over so well.

Sindorin let out a sigh, and said, “Hello, Aunt Muurine. What is it that brings you our way?”

“Oh, I was just wondering where you’d both gone off to…. But now I know.”

“How convenient,” he said, rolling his eyes a little, knowing full well that she’d had every intention of finding us together, in one way or another. Muurine was very sly like that, and I’d confided in her my feelings for Sindorin, so it didn’t surprise me in the least.

“Well,” she said with a smile, “forgive me for having interrupted. I suppose I’ll have to be more careful where I take my walks from now on.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Sindorin, still terribly embarrassed and somewhat annoyed.

Muurine turned to me now, and said, “Syl, my dear, your father is wondering where you’ve run off to. It’s time for you to resume your lessons.”

I sighed with annoyance, and then turned to Sindorin. “Perhaps we shall talk some more later?”

He smiled at me, and I felt the fluttering in my stomach that I’d read about in Alanwen’s romance novels. I was certainly in love with him.

“I should like that very much,” he said in reply to my question. Then he took my hand and pressed it to his lips, saying, “Sheogorath bless you, for all of your days.”

I smiled timidly then hurried off to the palace to resume my lessons for the rest of the day.

“Well, well,” said Muurine, after Syl had left her and Sindorin on the palace grounds. She was giving her nephew a knowing look, and it made him a little uncomfortable.

“What?” he asked, when she continued to smile at him.

“You tell me,” she replied. “This was rather unexpected.”

“Oh, come on, Muurine,” he said with a sigh. “Don’t tell me you didn’t at least have an inkling that this was going to happen. I know my dearest auntie better than that. I’ve seen how your mind works for all of my life. You were hoping to set me up with Syl, weren’t you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she replied; “not exactly… I mean, sure, I had hoped that you would both take a liking toward one another, now that you are both adults; but I wasn’t expecting anything so soon.”

“You didn’t know that she’s been harboring an infatuation with me ever since she was a child?” She wasn’t going to lie to him, but she wasn’t ready to admit to it. Sindorin knew, and he shook his head, a little amused. “That’s what I thought.”

“She has spoken to me about the subject,” she finally admitted, “but how did you know?”

“She told me, shortly before you ‘stumbled’ upon us,” he replied. “After I told her how much of a shock it was to me that I should suddenly feel this way for her…I mean, I barely know her.”

“She’s the same girl you knew before, Sindorin.”

“No, but she’s not. She is a woman now—a lady. And that’s what intrigues me all the more. She’s the same in all the ways that she ought to be; but in so many ways, she’s an entirely different person. It’s like I’m meeting her again for the very first time, yet the connection is still intact from before.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” said Muurine, with a smile. “You’re in love with her.”

“Am I?”

“I can see it. There is love blossoming between you and Syl, and it’s beautiful.”

“But is that possible?”

“Of course it is, Sindorin. Do you doubt your own heart?”

“No, but it seems too good--.”

“To be true?” she finished for him. “You’ll find, my boy, that sometimes the hardest things to believe are the ones which are closest to truth. That’s what makes them so special, I think. You just need to trust what is in your own heart, and never stray from it.”

“Since when did you become such a wise-woman?” he asked in a tease.

“Oh, hush,” she replied, rolling her eyes a little. “Come on; let’s get back to the house. We’ll return later, when Syl has finished with her lessons. She’ll most likely want to see you when she gets done with her studies, I’m sure. She’s been waiting for you for a long time.”

Posted by: mALX May 9 2011, 11:00 PM

So she finally gets Sindorin to look at her the same way he does ... Earana. I wonder if it will be all she dreamed of, or if she will find herself pushing him away as well? Great Write !!

Posted by: Acadian May 10 2011, 01:08 AM

How wonderful to see Sindorin. Even better to see that he and Syl seem to feel the same way about each other now.

Delightfully presented!

Nit: 'He took one look at me, and he was swept away.'
How did Syl know he was swept away? This passage screams for you to show us what Sindorin did, and let us draw the possible conclusion about his state of mind. Remember, you are in Syl's perspective here, so have her share with us what she saw.

Posted by: Lady Syl May 10 2011, 01:24 AM

Ah, yes! Thank you for that! I have now changed it in my post and in my archives!

Posted by: Thomas Kaira May 10 2011, 02:08 AM

Syl's finally getting the passion she so desired for the past several chapters, what a turnaround!

Syl really did get into that adolescent pandering for a while there. Parties, drink, drugs, sex, deception, and robbery? I think you covered the lot there (well, except for Grand Theft Equine). It was good to see some sense return to her in the end, though, even if it came by the edge of a knife. Throw away your dignity, and you paint a very clear target on your back for those who have done the same.

I hope Syl's life starts getting better, but knowing how, in the present, she is a paranoid wreck, I really can't be sure. At least she could have a good life for a small amount of time before the Champion of Madness comes along and ruins her life.

I'm caught up again, as well.

Posted by: SubRosa May 11 2011, 05:31 PM

Sindorin returns. I hope the servants can clean up the drool he left on the palace grounds before someone slips on it. Hmm, I wonder if he is the son of Uncle Leo?

and the two of them got along perfectly in those days.
In those days? I think I see some foreshadowing here of future problems. Perhaps when Daddy learns that Sindorin and Syl have been locking lips on the battlements? Such a very sweet scene that way btw. This being the Shivering Isles, it can only end very badly of course. Muurine's "accidentally" stumbling upon the pair is another foreshadowing of that.

Posted by: Lady Syl May 13 2011, 05:24 AM

mALX--Thanks! We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?

Acadian--Thanks! Sindorin was Syl's first love, so of course I had to bring him back into the story for a little while.

TK--Will her life get better, you ask? Probably not. I am glad you are enjoying her tale of sex, blood, and madness, TK. There is so much more to come--hopefully you continue to hang around!

SubRosa--lmao! Yes, I suppose there could be a few broken necks... But then again, the Demented seem rather fond of breaking necks, so maybe they left it with the hope that someone would slip on it?



Chapter 6.2—The Caged Bird

I studied for a couple of hours straight, but all I could think about was Sindorin. The way it had felt to kiss him, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at me with yearning—it was just like everything I had read about, and I had never felt this way before now. It was exciting and new, and I felt like I was living in a dream. I could hardly concentrate on my studies, but I knew that my father expected progress, so I tried to focus on what I was supposed to be doing. And yet, I couldn’t stop my mind from straying to my girlish fantasies again. I wondered, what would it be like when he made love to me for the very first time? He had plenty of experience, I was sure of it, as he’d spent a lot of time with other ladies of my father’s court who were eligible, and I had seen him flirting often when I was a child. I had been filled with envy then, but now I was the one he wanted, and I was thrilled by this new stage of my life.

Sitting at my desk, a book laying there open before me, I was in the middle of my fantasizing when a Seducer approached me. I sat up and cleared my throat uncomfortably, feeling my face grow hot as I hoped that the Seducer could not somehow read my mind and see the things of which I had been thinking.

She bowed respectfully, paying no attention to what I was supposed to have been doing, and saying, “His Lordship wishes to see you, my lady. He is waiting in the garden for you presently.”

“Thank you,” I said, putting on my regal exterior, while inside I was still incredibly embarrassed.

As the Seducer walked out, I got up and closed the book, then made my way to the private garden, using the entrance that was just a short distance from my quarters. My father was waiting, just as the Seducer had said; I got down on my knees, kissing his hands in a respectful greeting, as usual. He smiled down at me and waited, then helped me to rise. He had me take his arm and we began walking together around the garden.

“It is good to see Sindorin again after so many years, isn’t it?” he began. Oh, Madgod, did he know? But he continued, saying, “I have always thought of him like a son, you know.”

“Yes, Ada,” I replied in a quiet voice. “You’ve known him since he was a boy, have you not?”

He nodded once, and then cleared his throat. “He is a fine marksman, Syl. If you would like, I will allow the two of you to go out riding together, so you can practice your archery some more with him. I know you haven’t been out in a long time, and it would be good for you to get some practice again.”

“I would like that very much, Ada.”

“Good. Then it is all settled. You will spend your afternoons riding with Sindorin, for as long as he is willing to remain in Crucible. I have already spoken to him on this matter, and he was open to it. Of course, you will be chaperoned.”

“Of course,” I replied, hiding my disappointment. “I would expect as much.”

My father smiled and patted my hand, but he remained thoughtful for awhile. Finally, I asked if there was something else he wished to talk to me about. He sighed a bit uncomfortably, and then stopped to look me in the eye. “Syl, I want you to be happy,” he began. “You know that, yes?”

“Yes,” I replied, still a bit confused. “Ada, is something the matter?”

He sighed, then straightened himself and cleared his throat, seeming to put it behind him. “Never mind…. You should return to your studies. Perhaps we will talk another time? For now, I have much work to do.”

He bent down to kiss me on the forehead, then smiled at me. “You look so like your mother….”

I was pleased with this, and I smiled delightedly. Then my smile faded, and I said, “I miss her.”

His eyes were teary, and I was surprised at how vulnerable he seemed; it was so unlike him…. He nodded slowly, and softly said, “I miss her, too; more than you know…. Well, to your studies then. I will see you at supper tonight. Try not to be late, as you know it displeases me.”

“Yes, Ada, I will try.”

“Good. I shall see you then.”

He squeezed my hand, and then walked toward the main hall, leaving me there in the garden alone. His Seducers continued their patrolling, paying no more attention to me than was necessary, and I leaned back against a boulder there and sighed. I had never seen my father that way before, and it worried me. What was he thinking just then? Why had he looked at me that way, almost as if he were looking at a ghost from his past? He claimed that he missed my mother, yet only days before I had heard him telling Alanwen how glad he was to be rid of her. It had injured me to hear that, but I had tried to ignore it. And now he was telling me that he missed her? Was he lying to me, or to Alanwen? And whatever the case was, why?

******

The next afternoon, I went out with Sindorin, and we rode side by side, smiling at each other frequently, as lovers often do when they are unable to express their feelings any other way. The two Seducers followed behind us just a short distance away, and I knew they had been instructed to be sure nothing happened between Sindorin and I. They watched us closely, ready to report anything to my father which might be considered indecent. We laughed about it with each other, but it really made us considerably nervous.

When he helped me to hold my bow, he knew I had been studying archery for several years, but he used this as an opportunity to get close to me. He stood behind me, with his body so close to mine, and I’m sure the Seducers knew what we were doing. They knew I wasn’t a novice archer, so I hardly needed him to instruct me on the proper stance, but we did it anyway, as there was nothing they could do about it.

He placed his hands upon my waist, to straighten me properly, and I struggled to concentrate on my bow, instead of his hands on my body. When I was ready, I shot at the target he had posted on a tree, and I purposely missed. He knew what I was up to, and he smiled a bit then came over to ‘show me’ the proper stance again, this time helping me to shoot. It was just a little game we were playing, as it was all that we could get away with in such circumstances, but we were hardly interested in archery at that moment.

After I had shot a few arrows, he took me over to retrieve them all, pretending to be explaining to me what I needed to improve on, while the Seducers continued to keep an eye on me. When we were far enough away that they couldn’t overhear us, though, he stopped talking archery, and said, “I missed you terribly. I had hoped I would get to see you again last night, but you were still at your studies.”

I smiled and raised my brow a little. “Last night?”

“Well, I mean…yesterday before supper. I went to the palace to see you, but your father told me you were unable to accept any visitors.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “He won’t let me have any fun. He says I don’t study hard enough, but I’m studying all the time. If he’d just let up a little, and allow me to go out from time to time, I might actually study harder, because it would not get so boring, as it does when I’m at it all day long.”

He reached out to touch my cheek, and I closed my eyes to his touch. “Have patience, little Syl. He’s your father. He can’t help being hard on you, because he wants you to have a successful life.”

“Success at what? If he had his way, I’d be locked in the palace until he could marry me off to one of his courtiers. He doesn’t want me to be free. I’m like a little songbird in a gilded cage, and he’s my captor.”

Sindorin glanced over at the Seducers, who were still watching us like hawks. “Madgod, don’t they ever blink?”

I smiled. “My father has them watching us, to make sure you don’t do anything indecent to me.”

He blushed and cleared his throat uncomfortably, saying, “I would never take your innocence from you.”

“I’m not that innocent,” I replied, meeting his eyes before retrieving my arrows from the target and heading back to continue the practice.

I glanced back over my shoulder at him, and I could see he was still stunned, as he leaned on the tree. When he recovered from his surprise, he stood up and followed, clearing his throat again and saying, “Well, shall we continue with our lesson?”

“You’re the teacher,” I replied, casting him a smile that seemed to make him struggle to concentrate.

“All right, then,” he said, trying to clear his head. “We shall do a few more rounds, and then we’ll return to the palace. What do you say?”

“That sounds marvelous,” I answered, and he cast me an almost chastising look when I continued giving him an enticing stare. If only we hadn’t been chaperoned just then…. But with my father controlling the reigns, when would we not be?

Posted by: SubRosa May 13 2011, 08:07 PM

Syl's fantasies over her books were very sweet and refreshing to see. Goodness, she is quite taken with Sindorin!

So Daddy is putting the two of them together! I bet he will regret that. Syl probably too. Sindorin - otoh - will probably not live long enough to do so...


nits:
I was in the middle of my fantasizing when a Seducer approached me with a message from my father.
The bolded part is made redundant by the the Seducer's dialogue. You might consider deleting it.


“You’re the teacher,” I replied, casting him a smile that made it hard for him to concentrate on the lesson, instead of the thoughts that were racing through his mind.
You are slipping out of POV here. Syl would not know if her smile made it hard for Sindorin to concentrate or not, or about what thoughts he might be having. She might guess is all. Remember, we only see what your POV character does, hear what they do, think what they do, etc...

Posted by: Acadian May 14 2011, 12:39 AM

You do a delightful job here of delivering on your theme of a bird in a gilded cage. From Syl's studying daydreaming to the taste of freedom riding and shooting with Sindorin under the watchful gaze of the Seducers.

It is touching to see Syl's hormones in alignment with her heart.

And more mystery surrounding Syl's father. His motivations seem inscrutable, but. . . he is the Lord of Dementia after all.

Posted by: mALX May 14 2011, 05:48 PM

I have to agree with Acadian here. The heated longings between Syl and Sindorin have to take a back seat in my curiousity over this new mystery with Syl's father !!! Great Write !!!

Posted by: Lady Syl May 17 2011, 10:53 PM

SubRosa:Oops! I guess I'll have to fix that slip-up! Thanks for pointing it out!

Acadian:If only we could be certain of a lasting, healthy relationship between them... And Syl's father is one of those characters who just seem impossible to figure out... Even I am confusled [sic] by him sometimes, and I'm the one who created him, lol!

mALX:Thanks! I am, as always, pleased to know you are enjoying it!



Chapter 6.3

My father allowed Sindorin to take me on a two-day long hunting expedition over the weekend, and I was thrilled to be given a little more freedom. Of course, we were not allowed to go without a couple of Seducers for chaperones, so we were not completely alone together. Still, we would make the most of it, and we rode out together early one Fredas morning, with enough supplies to last us until Sundas.

After setting up camp, we took our bows and our quivers of arrows and headed away from the camp by foot, followed at a distance by the Seducers. We had chosen to go after grummites for sport, laying low behind some bushes and trees up on a hill outside of Knotty Bramble, one of the caves the grummites inhabited. There weren’t any grummites outside the cave guarding the entrance, which was unusual, so we waited leisurely for some to appear, talking in low voices until we heard their croaking voices as two of them came out of the Bramble.

It was then we turned our attentions to the frog-like grummites that walked upright and acted like primitive human-beings. The two we saw were huge, hulking giants, both of them carrying crude grummite cleavers—their deadliest weapons. They were some of the toughest of grummites—this we could tell by their size more than anything.

http://images.uesp.net/7/73/Grummite_dementia.jpg

“Well now, here we are,” Sindorin said in a low voice, readying his bow and watching them closely as they paced around, patrolling near the path to the entrance. “Watch closely, Syl, as I bring them down with one arrow each.”

I rolled my eyes and waited to see him shoot. He got up to his feet, crouching there and making his aim. Then, just when he was about to shoot, I gasped and reached out to grab his ankle, throwing him off and causing him to miss. I laughed quietly and got up as he sighed and looked down at me with annoyance.

“Very funny, Syl. Now you get to be the one to go retrieve the arrow from down in that swamp. I’ll not waste it—these are the best arrows money can buy, and they are very expensive. Much better than your obsidian arrows, I can say that.”

“Let me see them,” I said, holding out my hand. “I have yet to use a bow and arrows that can out do the ones the Dark Seducers use.”

“Be my guest,” he replied, handing me his bow and one of his arrows. “Let’s just see how well you do with these. They’re not what you’re used to, and it takes a lot of practice.”

I smiled faintly as I concentrated on my aim; then I released the arrow and we both watched as it glided gracefully through the air before striking one of the grummites right between the eyes, killing him instantly.

Sindorin was stunned; but then he recovered, and said, “Lucky shot.”

“Oh really? I’ll show you a lucky shot.”

With that, I pulled out one of my own arrows and shot again. This time the arrow went right through the other grummite’s temple, just as it was running over to its dead companion to see what had happened. He also died instantly, and I smiled and handed the bow back to Sindorin.

“Another lucky shot,” I said with a hint of good-humored sarcasm.

Sindorin took the bow and replaced it on his back, chuckling a bit, and saying, “Guess you showed me.”

“I guess I did,” I replied, flashing my eyes at him. “Did you forget how skilled I am with a bow?”

He let out a sigh and chuckled a bit, saying, “You could teach me a thing or two about archery, eh?”

I smiled and then we went down to search the bodies, taking bottles of poisons they had on them, as well as the cleavers they’d had on their belts.

“These weapons should fetch a nice sum at Morga’s don’t you think?” Sindorin asked, holding one of the cleavers up.

I smiled and placed my foot on one of the grummites to pull my arrow from his head. Then, after searching for Sindorin’s lost arrow together, locating it stuck in a stump near the marsh, we returned to our camp with our loot and cooked up the eggs we’d collected from the grummites’ egg sacks, to go with our meal. While the Seducers stood nearby, always on the look-out for danger, we dined on the grummite eggs, dried beef, fresh strawberries, and an assortment of fire-roasted vegetables, such as onions, fungus stalks, and blister pod caps. Sharing a bottle of cheap wine, we rested together beneath the shade of a willow tree, admiring the beauty of the landscape that surrounded us. Dementia is truly the most exquisite place in all existence, and I can’t imagine any place being more beautiful.

Sindorin laid back, resting on his elbow, while I rested upon my back with my eyes closed in the afternoon sunlight that drifted through the leaves on the tree as a gentle breeze blew. As I lay there, I felt his hand begin to gently stroke my cheek, and I looked up to see him smiling down at me, his crisp blue eyes brimming with pure love and admiration. I felt like the luckiest woman in all the Isles as he gazed at me that day, the afternoon sun shining down through the trees.

That night, when darkness fell and the Seducers stood guard over our camp, Sindorin snuck into my tent. He was wet from the rain that had begun to fall an hour or so earlier, and his loose hair fell over his face. I was completely in awe of this beautiful man who stood there before me—the man I had loved for so long. When he came to me, slipping his arms around my waist and drawing me close to his body, I was entirely swept away. This time, it felt like all the romantic stories I had read. I found that night, to my greatest delight, that love and sex could, in fact, be the same.

******

My father didn’t seem to notice the change between Sindorin and me after we returned from our hunting trip, and we continued to go out every afternoon together. However, he now sent three Seducers with us, and I knew that he suspected something. I felt eyes on me constantly, and it became rather annoying to have so little freedom living under his roof. The only way I could possibly escape that now, would be to move out, but that was never going to happen, as my father would never let me get out from under his authority. I felt like I would be trapped forever, but at least there was hunting and the archery lessons—the closest thing to freedom I ever got.

“Do you love me?” I asked Sindorin point-blank one afternoon, while out on our excursion, and he looked into my eyes when he gave his answer.

“You know that I do.”

“Then why don’t you ask my father to marry me? Then we can be together, and he’ll never bother us again.”

“Marriage?” he asked, straightening uncomfortably. “You—you want to marry me?”

I felt my face grow hot, and I realized I had spoken too brazenly. Muurine had told me many a time never to speak to a man about commitment unless he broached the subject first. Madgod, I was such a fool! “Well, I mean…it was just…. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know what to say, and I felt like I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t let him see it, so I turned away and began heading for our horses, ready to leave.

“Syl, wait!” he called, running after me and grabbing my arm to stop me. The Seducers both became more alert, watching more closely as they perceived a possible threat. Sindorin realized himself and backed down, but they still watched us to be sure nothing happened, and he spoke in a voice only just above a whisper.

“Syl,” he said again, glancing at the Seducers for a moment, “I didn’t mean to make you feel as if marriage was not an option. I love you, and I want to spend my life with you, but…you’re still very young, and--.”

“I’m still only a child to you,” I cut in, not even bothering to lower my voice. “Don’t worry, I get it. You want to marry someone old and boring, not someone like me!”

The Seducers couldn’t help but listen now, as I was speaking rather loudly, and Sindorin stopped talking quietly, too. “Syl, now wait a minute! You know that’s not true. I want to marry no one but you, but you’re only seventeen. No elf is ever happy in marriage at such a young age. You need to experience more before you will be ready to settle down with anyone.”

“I’ve experienced plenty! If you think I’m just an ignorant and naïve little girl, then you know nothing about me at all. I know what I want, and it is you. I love you, Sindorin; I have loved you for as long as I have known you. What more do I need than that?”

Forgetting about the trouble we might get in, he pulled me into his arms and started kissing me passionately. But then he pulled away just as suddenly and grabbed the reins of his horse, leaving me stunned and rejected.

“What are you doing?” I asked, running to catch up as he began heading back to the road. “Why did you stop?”

“We can’t do this, Syl. I can’t have you.”

“Because of the Seducers?”

“Because of your father,” he replied, looking up at the palace on the cliff behind the city, both of which created a backdrop for all of this.

I looked at the palace, and I could see a figure standing by one of the windows on the palace grounds. I couldn’t see the person’s features, but I knew it was him. He had been watching us all this time, for who knows just how long.

“Come on,” Sindorin said to me. “We have to get back. I’m sure that he’ll be waiting for us when we get there.”

I took my horse’s reins and followed silently, feeling overwhelmed and wanting to cry. Part of me hated my father for doing this to me, but the other part of me strove only to please him. I feared what he would do to Sindorin, and to me, if that was him in the window, watching the whole scene from afar. I just prayed he would be lenient to us both.

Posted by: Acadian May 18 2011, 03:18 AM

Aww, love blossoming and blooming! I'm so glad that Syl's emotions enhanced and allowed her to fully enjoy their time in the tent.

And some grummite hunting!

I'm curious to see what happens next regarding Sindorin and Syl's father.

Nit:
'But then he pulled away just as suddenly and grabbed the reigns of his horse,
I took my horse’s reigns and followed silently, '
In both these passages, you want the word, reins instead of reigns.

Posted by: SubRosa May 18 2011, 05:04 PM

A bosmer bowgirl, with a faint smile? How perfect! Syl is indeed growing up, showing that she had indeed learned something after all. Perhaps she will employ that archery skill to rid her father of that concubine?

Ahh, young love, and the first argument over the future. But worse, being caught by daddy, which I had not expected to happen for a little longer. It looks like Sindorin will be the entertainment at the next party!

Posted by: Lady Syl May 23 2011, 02:13 AM

Acadian:Oh, thank you for that nit! I hadn't even realized there were two different kinds of reigns! lol

SubRosa:Not a bad idea, employing her archery skills against Alanwen...




Chapter 6.4—Freedom at a Price

My father was not waiting for us on the palace grounds, as we had feared, but he was waiting in the main hall. He looked at both of us with disappointment and fury, and he ordered me to go to my quarters where we would talk when he had gotten through speaking with Sindorin. I knew better than to disobey, though I feared for Sindorin, and I went to my quarters to wait nervously there.

Half an hour had passed before my father came to me, and I trembled when my door opened and I saw him there. He seemed to have cooled down some, though the disappointment was still all over his face, and I was ashamed that I had let him down. At the same time, I felt that he was being unfair, because I loved Sindorin more than my life itself.

After closing the door, my father came over to stand before me, and I kept my head down in shame, as I knew he expected of me. To raise my head or to meet his eye would have been seen as defiance, and I was expected to remain submissive, as he was not only my father, but also my Duke.

“You have displeased me yet again with your unwillingness to follow my rules,” he began, his voice cold, stinging at me like ice. “All I have asked is that you act like a decent young lady, but you can’t even keep your skirts down long enough to listen.”

“Ada, it was only a kiss,” I started to say, defending myself without raising my voice, so as to stay submissive. But then he slapped me with the back of his hand and I fell back upon my bed, my eyes welling up with burning tears as he continued to chastise me, yelling loudly.

“I am your father! You have disobeyed me for the last time! I don’t care what you think of my rules; as long as you are living in my House, you will obey them without question! No more friends, no more parties, no more hunting with Sindorin! You will stay in your quarters, day and night, except when I say otherwise! You will take your meals in here, alone, and you will continue with your studies under strict supervision. If you so much as bat your eyes at a man, I will have him executed, and you will be beaten! Is that clear?”

“Yes,” I whispered, barely able to speak.

“Good. Then your sentence begins right now. Get to studying. I want to see progress in your knowledge of the history of the Realm. You are to read about the fall of Vitharn, and you will be questioned in the morning, to be sure that you have learned something from it.”

He began toward the door, but I stood up, and managed to ask, “What about Sindorin?”

He stopped and took in a breath, but he didn’t even turn to face me. “He has been sent away and banished from the House of Dementia. You are not to see him again, so forget about him and get to work.”

After saying that much, my father left, and I collapsed onto the bed and wept for over an hour.

Over the next week, I was prevented from leaving my quarters, just as my father had said, and not even Muurine was allowed to see me. I wanted so badly to know if Sindorin was still staying in Crucible, and if he was all right, but without having anyone to talk to, I was left with nothing but worry and speculation. My only comfort was the knife from my alchemy equipment, and I cut myself often, whenever I felt overwhelmed and empty. It kept me sure that I was alive, as my current situation made me feel like I was dead. I thought of Cutter and my other friends every time I cut myself, and I realized that it had been months since the last time I had been allowed to speak to any of them. I wondered how they were, and felt betrayed that they were probably still having the time of their lives without me. How I envied their freedom.

I thought my captivity was going to go on forever; a week already felt like an eternity in and of itself. But then my father sent a Seducer to escort me to his garden, and it was the first time I had seen daylight and fresh air in a week. I realized then that I had begun to feel sick, being cooped up inside for so long and the sun on my skin was revitalizing. I didn’t care so much about my skin freckling, and I relished the warmth and the light that shined down on me then.

When my father entered, I could see right away that he was somewhat nervous; but what worried me was that he also seemed almost giddy. He looked more cheerful than I had seen him in many years, and I wasn’t sure what to think of that. Should I be relieved, or afraid?

He stopped before me, and I knelt down to kiss his hand, but then he helped me back up very quickly and embraced me, kissing my forehead the way he always had. I looked at him curiously, suspiciously, and I waited for him to speak, knowing that it was not allowed for me to address him first.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” he said, though I didn’t really have much of a choice. “How are you faring, my dearest daughter? I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t get to see you yesterday at all, but I was rather busy.”

“I am well,” I replied in a meek and almost child-like voice. “Did something happen?”

“Well, yes,” he said vaguely. “But it was not something terrible.”

“Pray, tell me what it is? Should I be rejoicing?”

“I hope that you shall,” he replied, smiling proudly. “Syl, I have asked Alanwen to marry me. She has agreed to become my wife.”

Suddenly I felt as if a wall had tumbled down upon me. The news hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I was stunned. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to slit her throat from ear to ear. She was going to take my Ada away, just as she had been planning ever since she killed my mother. But I was not going to let her. Somehow I had to stop it.

I shook my head in disbelief, saying, “No. No, Ada, you cannot marry her. That woman is a witch! She is a murderer! She killed my mother, and she would kill me, too, if she had the chance!”

“Now, Syl, Alanwen is a good and caring woman. We’ve gone over this many times before—she had nothing to do with your mother’s death. If you’d get over your hatred of her, you would see the woman I see in her, and I love her.”

“She doesn’t have a caring bone in her body!” I snapped. “No. You cannot marry her, Ada. I forbid it.”

“You forbid it?”

“I will not give you my blessing to marry that witch!”

“I did not ask for your blessing, Syl, nor your approval. I am going to marry Alanwen, whether you like it or not. She is the love of my life, and she makes me very happy.”

“Damn you, and that woman!” I spat. “She will not be my step-mother. I would sooner slit my own throat than call her Mother!”

“Don’t you dare say that!” he cried, slapping me rather abruptly across the face and taking me by surprise. My eyes filled with tears, and I looked at him in shock. He realized himself and began to apologize, but I pulled away from him.

“You and your harlot-bride can both rot in hell, for all I care!” I cried. “I won’t be a part of this!”

I ran away from my father as he cried after me, and I only stopped when I ran into Alanwen, who had been listening by the door.

“You!” I sneered. “I am going to kill you!”

“Gelebor!” she cried, as she turned and began to flee.

I tore after her then, and grabbed her by her hair as soon as I caught up to her, yanking so hard that she fell to the floor. She looked up at me, terrified, but unable to say anything.

“Get up,” I demanded. “Get up, you salacious witch! You deceitful little worm! Get up!”

I reached down and grabbed her by her arms to pull her up, and then I whipped her against the wall and squeezed my hands around her long, slender neck. “You came into my home to destroy my family, killing my mother, and now you think you can take my father away from me, too?”

“Syl! What in Oblivion are you doing?” My father found us in the corridor and ran to us, grabbing me by the arms to pull me away. He practically threw me at the Seducers that had followed him, and they held me tight as he went to help Alanwen. She sank to the floor, coughing for air, but I hadn’t been able to choke her long enough to kill her. Muurine had just happened to show up as I was chasing Alanwen, so she stood by and watched the scene, taking in every little detail for the latest gossip.

After checking on Alanwen, my father turned to me, glaring coldly as he marched up to slap me across the face. “How dare you attack my fiancé, you ungrateful little wretch!” He stopped and continued glaring at me, and it sent chills down my spine. He had never looked at me the way he did just then, and it reminded me of the way he had always glared at my mother before beating her.

“Get out of my House,” he said, gritting his teeth just to keep from hitting me. “You are not welcome here any longer!”

My heart ripped in two. He was disowning me. He was abandoning me, for the woman who had murdered his wife? How could he do this? How could he choose her over me—his own daughter?

“But…Ada….” I reached up to him, pleading with my eyes, but he turned away.

“Go. Before I change my mind and have you thrown in the dungeon for this treachery! You have cut me deeply with this betrayal, Syl. Leave now; do as you please. But don’t come back to this House until you are ready to obey me, and accept my decision.”

Muurine stepped through the Seducers, who had released their tight grip on me. She took me in her arms, and whispered softly, “Come on, Syl. Come. You can stay with me, and Uncle Leo. Come.”

I let her lead me out, but I felt numb and betrayed. I thought my life was over that day, and a part of it was. I was no longer Ada’s faerie princess anymore. Alanwen had finally won. He was all hers.

Posted by: SubRosa May 23 2011, 05:36 PM

but you can’t even keep your skirts down long enough to listen.
Youch! And how many skanks have you lifted the skirts of daddy?

He has been sent away and banished from the House of Dementia
In how many pieces I wonder?

Now that was quite the bombshell that Syl's father dropped! Not exactly a surprise, as it was obviously what Alanwen had intended all along. But it is still as devastating as one of her father's physical blows. Syl reacted with the rage I expected, given the circumstances. Too bad she was not able to finish the job on Alanwen before her father got there.

As the title said, now Syl finally has her freedom. But purchased with much pain. I have no doubt that this is not over though. Removing Syl from the palace was an error that I suspect will prove fatal for both her father, and Alanwen. For now Syl will have the opportunity to engineer her revenge upon both. Which I hope will be bloody and final. I am sure it will take a while for her to get there, but it seems as inevitable as the sun rising.



nits:
I wanted to slit her from ear to ear
Did you perhaps mean slit her throat from ear to ear?

Posted by: Thomas Kaira May 24 2011, 04:13 AM

Yes, Syl has finally gotten her wish of freedom, and I for one am glad it came at the price of the loss of her father. If he was willing to choose a morally ambiguous harlot over his own daughter, then if he were my father, I would have nothing more to say to him. A good father always respects the wishes of his kin, and it is obvious Syl's does not. When Syl likened herself to a pet bird, she hit the nail right on the head.

I get the feeling that the next time Syl meets her father, it will be with cold vengeance in her heart.

In the meantime, I look forward to seeing just how much Syl enjoys (or doesn't) her new life outside the palace, as fallen royalty. She had better buckle down, though, because if there is one thing palace life can do to you, it is shelter one from the true evils of life. Syl has only had one experience with such people, but now she must learn to live among them after nearly two decades of protection by her blood status. Mistakes are going to be made; that much is certain at this point. Let's hope they aren't too bad, I don't want to see Syl get hurt.

Posted by: mALX May 24 2011, 09:44 PM

I find it hard not to feel Syl's father set this up between the two of them - allowing them to go on a two-day hunting trip together where they will be in the same tent? How could he possibly be mad if they did something when he all but threw them together in an intimate setting? He couldn't have expected anything less than her deflowering (had she still been a flower).

Sindorin is acting oddly skittish, too. Why would he be hesitant to ask the father's permission for marriage rather than make it appear like he is just toying with the Duke's daughter's goodies and has no intentions beyond that? It seems the father would be much happier to learn Sindorin wants to marry her than just roll her in a tent.

You have quite a mystery going on in these relationships, intriguing bits of information that reveal tantalizing glimpses but the undertones promise a bigger story than we are seeing - can't wait to find out more !!!! Awesome Write !!!!!

Posted by: Acadian May 27 2011, 02:24 AM

The first scene was both powerful and poignant.

Syl's imprisonment in her room and seeking comfort through cutting herself is actually fully understandable - testimony to how well you have developed her for us.

'Suddenly I felt as if a wall had tumbled down upon me. The news hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I was stunned. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to slit her throat from ear to ear. She was going to take my Ada away, just as she had been planning ever since she killed my mother. But I was not going to let her. Somehow I had to stop it.'
Syl has a reaction here that is very true to her nature as you have shown us. The violence that followed also seemed somehow perfectly fitting for Syl.

“Get out of my House,” he said, gritting his teeth just to keep from hitting me. “You are not welcome here any longer!”
At this news, I actually found myself saying, "Yes, freedom for Syl at last!" Alas, I see Syl does not feel that way, and again, you make her thinking so very in keeping with her nature, for I overlooked that she does indeed still love her father:
'I let her lead me out, but I felt numb and betrayed. I thought my life was over that day, and a part of it was. I was no longer Ada’s faerie princess anymore. Alanwen had finally won. He was all hers.'

Clearly, this marks a significant turning point for Syl.

Posted by: Lady Syl May 27 2011, 09:10 PM

SubRosa:Thanks for pointing out that I left out "throat" in that sentence, lol. Sometimes I think faster than I can type...or is it the other way around?

TK:Aww, I'm so glad I've managed to make you care about Syl! It's what I was hoping to do, and that you express your hopes for her not to get hurt is quite touching!

As you said, it seems more than likely that she will end up getting hurt, but suffering has its purpose in life, after all--we can learn from it.

mALX:Actually, they were supposed to be in separate tents... However, it would seem the Duke ought to have known better. Glad you're still hanging in for more! Yay!!

Acadian:Thank you very much, sir! *bows respectfully* I am thrilled to know that my writing is doing that which I was hoping it would do--yours and...all the other comments are certainly testimony that I should indeed continue writing--not just for my own sake, but to add enjoyment and (hopefully, ultimately) learning through an activity that I fear is slowly dying--reading. But still, I feel so inferior to all of you, who are such skilled writers--so to hear you all encourage and praise my writing...I am left speechless, and all I can say is, again, thank you all!



Chapter 7.1—Exiled

Sindorin threw his arms around me the moment he saw me follow Muurine into the house in Crucible that day. “Syl! I cannot believe you are here! How did you get your father to let you come?” When he looked at me again, he saw that I had been crying, and then he noticed the somber expressions on mine and Muurine’s faces. Then he asked, “What happened?”

Muurune sat me at the table and pulled Sindorin aside to quietly fill him in on the details. When they finished speaking, he came to kneel before me, taking my hand, and saying, “Oh, Syl, I…I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t speak. What words could possibly have conveyed what it felt like to be exiled—disowned by my own beloved father? Fresh tears filled my eyes, and though I tried to fight it, I began weeping again. Sindorin pulled me into his arms and held me as I wept, and I was comforted by the warmth of his embrace. But nothing could possibly fill the void that was left in my heart that day. Nothing could heal the ache of abandonment that surrounded me.

Muurine was up bright and early the next morning, and she was hardly very quiet, though I think she was trying to be. Although Sindorin and I were together, I slept in Muurine’s quarters, while he slept downstairs on a bedroll he laid out in the kitchen, as it would have been entirely improper for a lady to sleep anywhere but in a private chamber.

Usually Muurine slept late, but this morning she had something on her mind. She went right to it, sitting at her desk and studying her books and her notes voraciously. I was hardly privy to what it was she was so intent on finding, but I couldn’t sleep with her rapid page-turning and absent-minded mumbling. So, I got up and sat in a chair beside her, wrapped in a blanket, and rested my head upon her shoulder. She smiled slightly, continuing to scan the pages of her books; and when she had found what she was looking for she stuck a quill in the pages and turned to look down at me.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she said. “Did I wake you?”

“No, not really,” I replied in a sleepy voice. I yawned a little, then sat up and saw that she was looking at me very curiously. “What is it?”

“Not to pry,” she began with caution, “but I suspect you and Sindorin have…taken your relationship to the next level… Am I correct, or am I just misreading things?”

I didn’t reply at first. I couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t just one of her ways of fishing details out of me which she could use to enrich her gossip with. After all, it really wasn’t any of her business. And besides, I was still tired.

My lengthy silence brought out a sigh from her, and she got up and pushed in her chair. “Never mind…. I’m sorry—I should never have asked, I suppose. I was just hoping, I guess. I would love to see you together… And you know you can tell me anything, Syl—I’m good at keeping secrets, if that’s what you want me to do.”

Yeah, right, I thought with some amusement. She was good at keeping some secrets—but many times she spilled at least to one other person, who would then tell one other person—all of them promising absolute secrecy, only going on to tell one person they believed they could trust. Then before you know it, everyone in town is buzzing about it. Of course, Muurine and her friends meant well—usually, anyway. But the truth was, they were horrible at keeping secrets other than their own, and usually everyone found out about it sooner or later.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I only smiled and got up to get dressed. She watched me walk away for a moment, and then came over to help, as usual.

While she helped me into my clothes, I thought about telling her. I knew she would be excited about it. But I liked keeping it to myself, as so little of my life had ever truly been.

After helping me into my simple black dress, she stopped and took my face in her hand to admire me with tears in her shining brown eyes. “You look so much like your mother. She and I were friends, you know. I met her at court just after you were born, and we became friends very quickly. That’s why she decided to hire me on as your governess, when the first one wasn’t working out very well.”

“The first one?” I asked, having known nothing of having another governess before Muurine.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, thinking back on it. “The first one was your wet-nurse; a Redguard woman with seven grown children, who had served your parents as a chambermaid for years…. I don’t know exactly what it was that made her no longer suitable to govern you, but I remember your mother was very nervous about it. Your father was, as usual, suspicious of her. They never spoke to me about it, but I did over hear him mention something about a secret, if I remember correctly? Hmm…. I never did find out what this secret was, but apparently the woman knew too much about something, and was threatening to expose this secret….”

“What happened to her?”

“Well, she was executed, naturally.”

“Do you know what the secret was about?”

“No. All I know, dear, is that it was a secret that your parents were willing to kill for, in order to keep it from getting out. Every family has secrets, though. I’m sure it’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

I became silent, thoughtful. Muurine was convincing that she knew nothing more than what she had told me about it, but I still couldn’t help but wonder if there was more that she wasn’t telling me. I sat on my bed and watched her as she continued with her studies again, trying to decide if she did know more than she had told me.

Deciding that Muurine had truly told me everything she knew, I got up and went downstairs to see if Sindorin was awake yet. He wasn’t. He was still fast asleep in his bedroll, so I curled up beside him under the covers. He stirred and smiled a little, pulling me close and snuggling, but he was still only partially awake. While I lied there, I still wondered about what Muurine had told me, until I decided that it did no good for me to dwell on it further, and I pushed it from my mind.



While we all sat down to breakfast together that morning, a knock sounded on the door. We all looked at each other, and then Uncle Leo rose, straightening his fine silk jacket, and saying, “I’ll answer it.”

We all watched him walk down to the door, and we listened as he answered it. I heard the voice of my father’s Mazken courier, a male named Torzen. “Madgod’s blessings, honored madman. I have here a message from His Lordship, Duke Gelebor, for the madwoman, Syl Camoran. It must be delivered at once.”

“Thank you,” I heard Uncle Leo reply, before closing the door. He soon came back into the dining room, carrying a scroll that was tied with a black ribbon and sealed with my father’s emblem. He held it out to me, saying, “For you, my dear.”

As I took the letter from him, my hand shook. I prayed my father was summoning me to return, and that he had forgiven me. But upon unrolling the letter, I would find that it was even more unpleasant news. I should have guessed it when the courier had referred to me simply as ‘the madwoman, Syl Camoran.’ The lack of my usual title of honor, as well as the use of my mother’s ancestral surname, should have told me right away that I was far from forgiven.

The letter read as follows:

“Madwoman Syl Camoran,

Your crimes against us are most unforgivable. Unless you are willing to offer a sincere apology, and do penance for your trespasses, you are hereby banished from the House of Dementia and forbidden to seek the aid of any courtier or servant of House Dementia. Any who offer refuge to disgraced former members of the court, will be proving themselves disloyal, and will be susceptible to imprisonment and possible torture. May the Madgod have mercy on you.

Lord Gelebor, Duke of Dementia.”

When I finished reading the letter, I laid it on the table and just sat there, staring through it. Not only was I banished from the House of Dementia—now I might as well be banished from the entire city of Crucible. I could hardly believe my father would do this to me, and all because of that wretched woman!

“Syl, dear?” asked Muurine. “What does it say?”

“Read for yourself,” I managed to say, pushing the letter away and getting up from the table. “Madgod be with you all.”

Muurine was shocked when I began heading for the door, and she ran to stop me from leaving, while Uncle Leo picked up the letter and read it himself.

“Syl, where are you going?” Muurine cried, taking my arm to stop me. “You mustn’t leave… Where will you go?”

“Muurine,” said Uncle Leo, holding up the letter. “She has no choice. The Duke has made it perfectly clear…”

“What?” Muurine took the letter and scanned it quickly. Fury crossed her face suddenly and she tore up the letter, throwing it to the floor. “Well, this is what I think of it! I will not turn my Syl out onto the streets! She must stay here.”

“No, Muurine,” I said, shaking my head. “I will not put you at risk like that. I will go. I am sure someone who is not a member of court will take me in.”

Sindorin stood up finally, and said, “I will take you to Ashwood. You can stay with me.”

“Sindorin, are you sure?” I asked.

“I am no longer a member of the court, remember?” he said, walking over to take my hand. “And I would love nothing more than to have you stay at my home.”

While I was not too keen on the idea of leaving Crucible altogether, the prospect of making my home with Sindorin was more than appealing. Of course, I did not want to sound too excited, so I said, “Only if it is not an inconvenience to you.”

“It is no matter at all,” he answered, pressing my hand to his lips. “And I believe you will like it there.”

I smiled faintly, but I was still reeling from the shock of my father’s decision. Muurine, however, was not so ready to let me go. “This is unfair! You cannot just up and leave so suddenly. I’ll not stand for it.”

“Aunt Muurine,” said Sindorin, taking her by the arm, “please do not do anything to further anger the Duke. Syl and I have fallen out of favor with him, and we are lucky that he is being this lenient on us. I should think it unwise for any one of us to push our luck.”

“Sindorin is right, Muurine,” said Uncle Leo. “While I am not in agreement with Lord Gelebor’s decision, it is best for us to simply obey without question. Once he has cooled down some, he may be more forgiving. But for now, we must do as he commands.”

Muurine didn’t want to back down, but she knew that both Uncle Leo and Sindorin were right. She looked at me and held out her arms, and I accepted her embrace. Squeezing me tightly, she said, “I just can’t bear the thought of you being so far away from me. Ashwood is an entire day’s journey from here—I will hardly get to see you.”

“We will come to visit,” said Sindorin. “We can always stay at the inn.”

Muurine nodded slowly, and I went back to Sindorin. When I leaned back against him, he put his arms around me, and Muurine smiled at us with tears in her eyes. She knew we were in love, and it brought her some joy in this otherwise sorrowful moment. “Oh, come here, the both of you,” she said, holding her arms out to us.

The three of us embraced each other one last time, and then Sindorin grabbed our cloaks and we headed out into the cold, rainy morning, to begin our day-long journey down to Ashwood as exiles.

Posted by: mALX May 29 2011, 06:54 AM

Something is decidedly odd about Sindorin. He wakes up to a woman he is in love with snuggling him in his bed and merely stirs a little ... hmmm. Add that to him not stepping up and asking the Duke for her hand in marriage - oh yeah, Sindorin has some secrets of his own I'll bet. I wonder what they are, lol.

Syl not doing as the Duke bid and returning to him with an apology - that was probably a decision based in her youth, I was surprised Muurine didn't advise her to take that route. And a secret - one that Muurine obviously CAN keep, lol. A great chapter !!!

Posted by: Lady Syl Jun 1 2011, 07:49 PM

mALX: Yes, Muurine does actually have the ability to keep some secrets. When her life depends on it, then she knows very well how to keep her lips sealed....



Chapter 7.2—Exiled

Though I felt a sense of sorrow at leaving the city of my birth, I was excited and giddy about starting a new life with Sindorin in Ashwood—a city which had mystified me since I was a little girl. When we arrived, nobody knew who I was at all. It was such a relief to feel a sense of anonymity, for probably the first time in my life. I began to relax a bit, seeing that I wasn’t being watched so closely, like I always was in Crucible, where almost everybody knew who I was.

Life with Sindorin in Ashwood was wonderful, and for the first week I was unbelievably happy. He was so kind and respectful, and he showered me with love every single day. But it didn’t take long for me to realize I would not be happy in Ashwood for the rest of my life. After the first week, Sindorin began spending a lot of time going out on the hunt, and he would be gone for days at a time, usually only returning home for the weekend. I thought he would want me to go along on the hunt, but he seemed less than enthused when I asked to join him.

“Listen, Syl, I just need some time alone. I am not used to being around anyone this much—I need more solitude. And besides, I would prefer it if you stay here, where you will be safe.”

“I do not want to be your princess in a tower, Sindorin!” I argued. “I can handle myself in a battle just as well as you—I don’t need to be locked away for safe keeping!”

“Please, Syl,” he said, lifting my chin and wiping hot tears from my cheeks. “It is not easy for me to change the way of life I have lived for longer then you’ve been alive. Next time I will let you come with me—but this time I just want to go alone.”

Looking up at him, I let out a sigh. Then I said, “All right. Go, then. I will not stop you.”

“Thank you for understanding,” he replied, kissing me and patting me on the cheek before heading to grab his bow. He stopped before going out the door, and turned back to me, saying, “Please make sure you stay home while I am away, and do not answer the door if anyone knocks. You never know…. I’ll return in two days. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I answered quietly, though I couldn’t look at him. And then he was gone, and I was alone once again.

The fireflies were glowing yellow and the sound of rushing water filled my ears from nearby. I was standing in a grove of oak trees and willows, hidden from the sight of unwelcome eyes. Crickets serenaded all around me, and the warm breeze blew softly, caressing my skin like the gentle touch of a lover. I closed my eyes, feeling so at peace in this strange world—for some reason, I felt secure, though I had no idea where I was.

Then I heard the sound of footsteps crunching twigs and leaves on the forest floor, and I turned to see who was coming. My heart leapt when he stepped into the clearing, smiling at me as if I were his greatest joy, and I knew by the look in his magnificent eyes that he loved me. When he drew me into his arms, kissing me with such passion, I nearly melted in the warmth of his embrace.

“Look at them, Syl,” he said to me, his eyes turning upwards, where two massive glowing orbs floated in the night sky. Taking my hand in his, he said, “They are like us—drifting through the endless darkness alone, longing for one another when they are apart, but touching every so often when the fates allow.”

He pressed his lips to mine, but before the kiss was even over, he began to fade until I was left standing alone once again, the pain of our separation too impossible to bear….

When I woke up, I was still alone, in Sindorin’s bed. I shivered from the cold and listened to the rain falling outside, and the thunder cracking as the lighting flashed. Letting out a sigh, I realized it was only another impossible dream….

I was beginning to feel trapped again, with Sindorin being so over-protective of me, and I was certain this beautiful man I kept dreaming about was someone my mind conjured up to fill the ever-growing void in my miserable and lonely life. And yet, something about him seemed so familiar, as if I had met him before.

A part of me felt guilty for betraying Sindorin with this dream man, but I couldn’t help that my soul yearned for him so strongly. It didn’t help that Sindorin was almost never around, and when he was he spent more time repairing all of his hunting supplies in the parlor than he did with me. I cooked for him and cleaned for him, and stayed locked inside the house for him, and the only time he was able to spare for me was when we shared his bed.

One weekend when he came home, he sat in the parlor polishing the tips of his arrows, while I stood in the doorway, aching for him to notice me. When he finally realized I was there, he turned to me, and said, “Oh, Syl… I didn’t know you were standing there. Is something the matter? You look so glum. You hardly spoke to me at dinner….”

Tears began to well up in my eyes, and though I tried to fight it, I couldn’t hold back. “Everything is so different now, Sindorin. You are not the same here as you were in Crucible.”

He leaned back in his wooden chair, the leather of his armor making a scrunching sound with his movements. He let out a sigh and looked away from me, resting his hands on the back of his head, and obviously trying to think of what to say. But then, much to my surprise, he said, “So? Neither are you….”

A tear slipped down my cheek when I closed my eyes, unable to believe any of this. I didn’t even know what to say. I turned my face toward the floor, and said, “You don’t really want me here, do you?”

He sighed again and got up from his chair, saying, “Madgod, Syl, whatever made you say something like that? Of course I want you here.”

“To be your maid? To be the mistress you can return to when you need pleasure? I thought you loved me, but you treat me like nothing more than your personal harlot.”

“Syl, you know that you mean more to me than that,” he said, apparently shocked that I would say such things.

“Do I? Because you sure have a strange way of showing it! You keep me locked up inside this house day after day, while you go out hunting all week long, coming home only to lie with me for a couple of nights before you are at it again.”

“Syl, I…I’m sorry,” he said, seemingly at a loss for words. “This is how I have lived for many, many years, and I cannot just change it overnight. These things take time, Syl.”

“But you’re not even trying!” I cried, desperate for him to understand me. “In Crucible, I was the world to you. But here I am nothing but your slave to do with as you please!”

“I didn’t know you were feeling this way,” he said, sincerely baffled. “If I have made you feel that way, then I’m sorry, Syl. I truly didn’t know….”

“Perhaps if you were more concerned about your relationship with me, instead of living your life as you always did in the past, you would have noticed that I’ve been feeling this way almost since the beginning. This isn’t what I had thought it would be. This isn’t what I had…imagined….”

I became silent at this point, as the cold realization hit me. I had been falling for quite some time now, but I hadn’t realized it until it was too late to catch myself. Now there we were, standing before one another in the parlor, but it was as if we were an entire world away from each other.

Finally finding the words to speak, I took a deep breath, and said, “I want to go home—back to Crucible. I can’t stay here anymore, Sindorin, or I’ll just die.”

“But where will you go? You’ll be out on the streets….”

“I’ll find a way,” came my reply. “I just can’t bear this any longer. I don’t want to stay here with you anymore. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t know…maybe I should be happy here with you, but I’m not.”

After a momentary pause, Sindorin looked at me again and nodded, saying, “If that is what you truly want, then I will take you back to Crucible in the morning. I’m sorry, Syl. I don’t know what to say. Perhaps when you’re a little older, you will reconsider your decision and come back to me? I do love you, Syl.”

But it’s not enough, I thought painfully. But I didn’t say what was on my mind, and I just nodded my head slowly and walked back up the stairs. With a heavy heart, I packed my few belongings while Sindorin sat downstairs, staring pensively into the fire. I knew that even though he wasn’t very good at showing it, he did love me, and he did want me to be there. I can’t even begin to express how much I loved him, and how grateful I was for his charity toward me.

The next day, Sindorin escorted me back to Crucible, not wanting me to travel the roads alone. The journey was slow and solemn; neither of us talked most of the way, both lost in our own thoughts. We didn’t really know what more to say, so we were silent.

Because I could not stay with Muurine, Sindorin walked me to the inn, where he paid for two weeks worth of room and board for me. He would have paid for more, if he could have, but I told him I would be fine and I thanked him for all of his kindness.

Before he left, Sindorin took me aside and we embraced. Both of us cried softly as we kissed each other one last time, then said farewell. He whispered in my ear, “Madgod be with you, my sweet little Syl. Take care of yourself.”

My heart broke the moment he walked out the door of my room, but I knew this was for the best. As much as I loved him, I could not be with him—at least not at that point in our lives. Muurine came to visit, and she sat with me for the rest of the day, while I wept with my head in her lap as she gently stroked my hair. I missed Sindorin already, and I felt like the worst person in the whole Realm to do this to him. I feared that Muurine would be angry with me, but she was good and understanding and she assured me that this was for the best—if I was not happy in Ashwood then I shouldn’t force myself to stay there, not even for Sindorin. The hardest part was letting go.

Posted by: mALX Jun 2 2011, 08:01 PM

What an outstanding paragraph !! I can't help but wonder if the lover of her dreams is Thadon. What I found strange in this chapter was Sindorin's cool acceptance of the break up - while Syl was torn by it, felt bad for hurting him when he wasn't displaying pain. Sindorin has been strange all along, he reeks of secrets and motives below the surface with all his strange actions regarding Syl since she was grown. Intriguing !! Awesome Write !!!!!!

Posted by: Acadian Jun 6 2011, 12:51 AM

“Well, she was executed, naturally.”
How very demented! That Muurine said this in a rather blasé manner is testimony to how well you have crafted her for us.

And another mystery! This time about Syl's first governess.

Then Syl and Sindorin went off to Ashwood with such high hopes. Very poignant how things didn't work out there for Syl, and a sad return to Crucible.

Nit: 'While I lied there,'
You want 'lay' here. Lay vs lie can be very confusing and become even more so in the past tense. A correct example: 'Yesterday I lay in bed all day reading. Finally I laid my book on the table and put out the light.' I highly recommend you google 'lay vs lie' and try to get comfortable with the quirky differences.

Posted by: hazmick Jun 6 2011, 03:07 AM

Blessings of the Madgod! What a wonderful story! It's always nice to see another writer here (and a Bosmer no less! )
I am loving what you have done with the Shivering Isles! I don't get to visit with my Argonain as much as I'd like so it's nice to read your wonderful descriptions of the brilliant madness. You have given a huge depth to characters that I have never really spoken to 'in-game' and for that I congratulate you. I particularly loved the early scene with Thadon and Syl as children in Bliss, Thadon chasing after his chocolate as it floated away made me giggle. The romance between Syl and her lovers was also wonderful to read.

I look forward to future chapters with much anticipation!

Posted by: Lady Syl Jun 7 2011, 06:28 PM

mALX: Yes, Sindorin is rather detached, as you can plainly see. He does love Syl, but he is a madman, after all, and somewhere in his past lies the reason for his current inability to show more emotion and caring. It's unfortunate, because if not for that, he might have been a wonderful man for Syl to spend her life with. But, alas! it could not be.

Acadian: It probably helps me write the Demented characters with their so very twisted perspective because one of my favorite films growing up was The Addams Family with Anjelica Huston. In fact, Anjelica Huston is, in some ways, my inspiration for Muurine's character--I could see her as Muurine perfectly, though Muurine is more of a mixture of some of Ms. Huston's most memorable roles. I love writing these characters because they are just so very different...

hazmick: How wonderful it is to see a new reader join in Lady Syl's House of Madness! I am so pleased to hear that you are enjoying this rather bittersweet story of Syl's (and Thadon's).



Chapter 8—Dreams of Passion

It was a warm, sunny day in the Shivering Isles, and Thadon wanted to take advantage of the weather. He spent much of the day walking on the palace grounds, or sitting in the Halcyon Conservatory with a good book. He snacked on chocolates while he read, sipping wine from a silver goblet, and dreaming of the far off places in the stories he read. Then he began nodding off, an effect from the greenmote he had eaten with the midday meal wearing off, mixed with incurable boredom, when suddenly a voice called his name.

He opened his eyes, and when he saw who it was, he let out a sigh, and asked, “Is it really time, my Lord? Must I do this right now?”

“It is time,” said Lord Antonius, the tall but portly Duke of Mania. “We must prepare for the feast. This is a marvelous day for you, my boy—the day your destiny begins to take shape. I thought you would be excited about this day.”

“I am,” Thadon responded, “but can’t I have a few more minutes? I was having the most wonderful dream about a childhood friend, and I don’t want to leave it just yet.”

Antonius smiled to himself. Yes, Thadon will make a fine Duke one day. He was eager to get Thadon prepared for his future, though the youth did not yet know what his master had in mind. The Duke was getting old and weary, though, from countless years spent eating too much and partying too hard. But, thus was the life of a Duke of Mania—one always had to be the life of the party, and there was a party at the House of Mania every night. When Thadon’s time came to assume the mantle of the Duke of Mania, Antonius knew he would serve the people well, just as he had served him since he was but a small boy. However, at the age of 17, Thadon had another couple years or so before he would be truly ready.

“Come on,” said Antonius. “You must get prepared. You will be my new steward, and that is a great honor. You have well earned it with your years of loyal service. Rise, Thadon, and take your place within my court.”

Thadon sighed and set his book aside, then got up and stretched. He was taller than most Wood Elf males, but still short compared to most men. Even so, he was well-built and unbelievably handsome, with soft brown hair that fell to his shoulders, and those gorgeous and unique eyes. Even Antonius could not deny that he found young Thadon to be good-looking and rather desirable. And the women of Mania, both young and old, went nuts over him, and he’d had more than his fair share of them already. He was not one to hold back from the things which he desired, but that was part of being Manic—one could never have too much of anything, so they believed. None of them ever held back, and it’s likely that none of them even knew how to.

“All right, Master Antonius,” he said, bowing respectfully. “I am at your service.”

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear,” said Antonius, patting him on the shoulder once, as he chuckled to himself.



As he followed his master, whom he loved like a father, Thadon couldn’t help letting his mind wander back to his dreams. He wasn’t sure what triggered the dream about Syl, but it came rather unexpectedly. He hadn’t seen nor heard from the girl in several years, ever since that day when she told him never to speak to her again. Though their friendship had lasted so briefly, she had left such an impression on him which he could never explain. He had thought of her from time to time over the years, but she hadn’t crossed his mind since his party days began. After that, he was always too distracted with all the women who were constantly throwing themselves at him to think about childhood friends.

Then all of a sudden, there she was, haunting him in his dreams while he dozed in the garden that day. He had been dreaming of that first day they had spent together, when he’d fallen in the stream and lost his chocolates. It was a rather simple event; but there was something special about that day, and nothing could ever compare to the joy he felt as they had laughed together in the water, soaked to the bone and looking like ragamuffins. He still smiled when he thought of that day, and he let out a long, nostalgic sigh as he pushed the dream from his mind.



After the feast that night, Thadon entertained himself with the most irresistible petite blonde woman he had ever seen. She was a Breton woman, with a sweet yet enticing name, Solange, and he had met her just that night at the feast. He knew the first moment he lay eyes upon her that she would be the one he would take back to his room that night. Like most women, she seemed entirely enthralled with him, too, and they hit it off right away.

When they had both had their fill of the party, they wandered off to his chamber together, looking to enjoy each other’s company for the night. They were laughing and playing in his bed, and he was having the time of his life. But then something completely unexpected happened. Thadon stopped suddenly and became still, as a strange vision swept him away…

Out of nowhere, the vision flashed before him of a woman with the most beautiful and mesmerizing smile he had ever seen, gazing at him with such intense blue eyes. He was completely in awe of this woman, and he knew that, whoever she was, he was in love with her. And by the look in those amazing blue eyes, he knew that she was in love with him, too.

She was unbelievably beautiful, lovelier than any woman he had ever seen, with long, dark brown hair that framed her heart-shaped face, and eyes that seemed to penetrate into his very soul. But it wasn’t her beauty alone which drew him to her. There was something else, something much deeper than the flesh, like a connection of the soul.

“I love you, Thadon,” the woman whispered softly to him, before leaning down to kiss him. But just before their lips touched, the vision was gone, just as quickly as it had come, and he was face to face with Solange once again, who looked at him in confusion, as if wondering why he had stopped so suddenly.

The vision had stunned him, leaving him confused and disoriented, and suddenly Solange was not so irresistible to him anymore. He moved away and sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his face in his hands and trying to figure out what in Oblivion had just happened.

Solange watched him curiously, and asked, “Thadon? Is…everything all right? What happened?”

Thadon shook his head and got up, slipping on a robe and pouring himself a glass of wine. He downed the whole glass in one drink, then set it down and leaned on the table with his hands, letting out a long sigh. “I’m not really in the mood tonight,” he said finally. “Just go…. I…need to rest.”

“But, Thadon, what--?”

“Just go, Solange,” he repeated, more forceful and direct. “I said I’m not interested tonight.”

“Was I no good?” she asked, sounding hurt and confused by his rejection.

“No,” he sighed. “It’s not that, it’s just… I can’t really explain it. I don’t know what happened.”

She got up off the bed and came around to him, reaching her hand beneath his robe, and saying, “There are herbs that can help with that.”

Thadon pulled away and held out his hands to stop her. “No, Solange, it’s nothing like that.”

“I can tell,” she said, raising her brow. “So, what’s the problem?”

“Look, would you just leave?” he said, sitting on the bed again. “I told you, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Solange sighed and begrudgingly started to collect the remainder of her clothes. “Fine,” she said, shortly. “If that’s how you’re going to be, then I’m not interested in you anymore, either. Good-bye!”

She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Thadon let out another sigh, running his fingers through his hair, and looked at the vase of flowers on his desk, situated across the room. There was an assortment of various colorful flowers, but he noticed one that was right in the centre of the arrangement. It was the most beautiful flower of all—a rose, red for the color of passion. And at that moment, she was that rose, the fairest of all the flowers.

He got up and plucked the rose from the vase, sniffing at its voluptuous perfume and sighing with delight. Then he sat down and began scribbling voraciously, writing a poem to his lady:

O Lady of exquisite beauty!
A rose cannot compare,
To your elegant and lovely face,
And all that gorgeous hair!

O passion-stirring sentiment!
O fairest of them all!
The echo of that perfect voice
Doth happily still call!

Just wait and see, my Lady fair—
I know we’ll one day meet!
And on that day, the best of all,
I’ll sweep you off your feet!

And then together we shall dance,
With passion and desire!
Our love will burn eternally
And set the world on fire!




Ever since that unusual vision, Thadon was haunted by that beautiful dark-haired woman, who came to him often in his dreams while he slept. He would awaken after a dream of her, and sigh in disappointment when he saw that she wasn’t really there. He knew that the vision and the dreams must have meant something, but he wasn’t sure what. He hoped that perhaps the dreams were somehow prophetic—that he would one day meet that striking and incredibly unique wood elf, and that she would turn out to be his destined life-partner.

He had never even considered choosing a mate to whom he would be faithful and devoted. That just didn’t interest him at all—there were so many beautiful women to choose from, and just wanted to sample them all—until that woman began to show up in his dreams. He decided then that if he could only have one woman for the rest of his life—a terrifying thought to most Maniacs—he would gladly choose it to be her. He could see himself being satisfied with only one woman, as long as it was that woman in his dreams.

As Thadon sat in the Halcyon Conservatory one day, staring up at the sky and thinking about his dream lady, he suddenly came to the realization that there was another possibility as to what the dreams were saying to him—although it was one that was much less appealing than the thought of them being prophetic dreams. It was always possible that these dreams were merely symbolic, and that the woman was only an archetype for what he would consider the ideal life-mate. He hoped it was the first option—the prophetic dream. But he couldn’t be sure….

The woman, though beautiful, did not seem bright and bubbly like all the women he knew already, which struck him as somewhat odd as he continued to contemplate her in his chamber that night. She was more serious than any of the women he’d ever known, which only made her all that more appealing—she was different, unique. She was unchartered territory, and yet he was sure that there was something very familiar about her. The woman in his dreams was unlike any other, and he longed to find her.

Sighing almost painfully, he thought about her smile—hers seemed more sincere than the smiles of the women in Mania that he knew. It was almost tinged with a hint of sorrow, which he could not understand. But when she smiled at him, it was as if she were seeking reassurance and love—he made her vulnerable in some way, and he imagined it was something that wasn’t normal for her, though he didn’t know why he got that impression.

Jumping up from his bed, Thadon dug out his art supplies and put a fresh canvas on the easel by the foot of his bed. Unable to get her face out of his mind, he began drawing on the canvas with a charcoal pencil, sketching her face with such skill as to appear not to put any effort into his drawing. What he saw in his mind came out on the canvas almost perfectly, and when he was finished, he stepped back and admired his work. She was so beautiful to him…no other woman in all of Mania could ever compare. She was unique—and to him, she was perfect….

Posted by: hazmick Jun 8 2011, 01:39 AM

What a lovely insight into the life of the manics and Thadon's early court days. I wonder, does he take chocolate with his greenmote?

I think the young Bosmer is in love! If only he knew who that familiar face belonged to!

Great chapter M'lady.

Posted by: Thomas Kaira Jun 10 2011, 01:16 AM

My dear Syl... why must you break these hearts so?

It seems Syl hasn't quite gotten used to the fact that she is no longer royalty. Frankly, her complaints about living with Sindorin seemed like she's been spoiled by being able to live as she wished for most of her adolescent life. But, by the same token, she was also a prisoner of her father's will, so this could go either way.

It is disheartening to see her leave Sindorin, but at the same time, she now knows he is not the one in life she has been looking for. I wonder who is?

And I wonder if she is ever going to get to pay a visit to Cyrodiil, too? I would love to see Masser and Secunda rise in person, myself!

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 10 2011, 11:47 PM

7.1
I wonder what this secret was that Syl's wetnurse was executed for learning? Maybe who Syl's real father was? Or real mother was? Interesting...

7.2
I was not surprised at the courier's note of further banishment. I expected as much. I am also not surprised to see Syl's little love-nest with Sindorin quickly become stifling as well. For his own part, I am certain that married life (for even if it is not official, that is basically what it is) is quite a shock for him. Loving someone is one thing. Being able to live with them is something else entirely. Especially when you are used to doing everything your own way.

Syl's dream, and the mystery man in it, now that sparks some ideas. Why do I keep thinking of Thadon? I suppose only time will tell the answer to that.

Now there we were, standing before one another in the parlor, but it was as if we were an entire world away from each other.
I loved how you did the entire scene, but especially this. I have been there and done that myself, and that is exactly what it is like. Well written!

But it’s not enough
This is another excellent realization, and a most basic truth that people can only learn the hard way. Love is not enough. It takes more, and often that is just not there.

Posted by: mALX Jun 13 2011, 04:59 AM

This note is copied and pasted on everyone whose story I am having to neglect for a few days - mainly because my eyes are burning too badly to keep looking at the screen :


"I'll be back!" (spoken in an Arnold voice). I haven't had time to read this week - way too much going on, my week has been hectic as H !! When I have gotten any free time my eyes and mind were burned out, lol. I'll be back to read this when I get a bit of a break in the rat-race pace around here. (sorry about that )

Posted by: Lady Syl Jun 13 2011, 01:56 PM

Not to worry, mALXie. Thank you for letting us all know.

Posted by: Lady Syl Jun 15 2011, 05:14 PM

hazmick:Thank you! And yes, I believe Thadon does indeed take chocolate with his greenmote!

TK:I break these hearts because it gives you an insight to this seemingly terrible person from the game, of course! Unfortunately it only gets worse before it gets better. Must have much pain and sorrow to create the future Duchess of Dementia, after all. But I'll give you a little to look forward to: Through all the misery she experiences, there are little rays of sunshine and happiness that will manage to peek through all the clouds.

SubRosa:Hmm, you may be onto something. Time will only tell, of course. And Sindorin was a learning experience that she had to go through perhaps, to know what the real good thing is when it comes... Soon perhaps?



Chapter 9.1—Desperation

After returning to Crucible, I found that most of my old friends no longer cared for me, now that I was no longer in my father’s favor. Now that I was disgraced, I was nothing to them. So much for true friendship…

Cutter was still friends with me, but she was busier with learning to be a blacksmith, so she didn’t have much time to spend with me. However, she made it clear that she still valued my friendship, and on her free-time she would have me over at the smith shop to hang out together, usually just the two of us.

Sometimes Dumag gro-Shadborgob would also hang out with us, as he was Morga’s son, and also Cutter’s lover at the time. I could never understand her attraction to him, but they seemed very fond of each other then, and he would at the very least try to be friendly. However, he apparently had always had an interest in me, and he had asked Cutter to get me to go to bed with him one time. I was hardly interested, especially since I assumed the two of them were going steady, but apparently Cutter thought it would be fun. She was particularly wild in those days, and she could get me to do just about anything.

Dumag had offered to pay me for it, which I would have turned down in a heart-beat. But my two week stay at the inn was about to come to an end, and I had no money. If I didn’t get the 20 drakes it cost for a room, I was going to be out on the streets the very next night. But Dumag was willing to pay 10 for one time with me, so out of desperation, I agreed. I would make up the difference my own way.

In her chamber at the smithy, I asked Cutter if she would let me drink a couple bottles of wine first, but she vehemently said, “No! Absolutely not! Syl, how can you say you do or do not like it with him, if you’re too drunk to remember any of it?”

I glanced over at Dumag, who was waiting patiently on the bed in his loin cloth. He saw me look at him, and he made what appeared to be a smile. I forced myself to return his smile, and then looked back at Cutter. “All right,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll do it without getting drunk…. But can I at least have just one drink, to get me a little more in the mood?”

“Sure,” she said, handing me the bottle she had only just wrenched from my hands moments ago. I took one drink—one very long drink—and she had to yank the bottle away, so I wouldn’t consume it all. “You cheat!” she said with a snicker.

I smiled and said, “You said I could have one drink. You didn’t say how long it could be.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed my arm to pull me toward the bed. She took a swig of the wine herself, and handed it to Dumag, who accepted it graciously. Watching Dumag drink the wine then, I felt suddenly very modest and shy about this whole thing. Cutter, having noticed, reached around my waist to untie my bodice herself. I felt very awkward, but Dumag grinned. “Mmm, I like that. You two gonna put on a nice show for Dumag before we begin?”

“If you want us to,” said Cutter, much to my shock and horror.

“Cutter! You can’t be serious?”

“Sure I am,” she replied. “Why not? It’ll be fun.”

“I…can’t do this,” I said, shaking my head. “Please, Cutter, let’s just get on with Dumag, or else I want to go home.”

She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. Was she actually disappointed? “Fine, whatever,” she said. Madgod! She was disappointed!

I swallowed hard and came closer to the bed, and Dumag held his arms out to me, saying, “Come on, sugar. Let’s get this on, shall we? I’ve had my eye on you for a long time.”

Cutter had turned away, and I was surprised that she seemed so upset that I had opted out of giving Dumag a show. I wanted to talk about it, to find out why, but Dumag was eager, and I knew she probably wouldn’t talk about it anyway.

I’ll admit it wasn’t terrible—lets just say that orcs are rather well-endowed. But when it was over, I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to sleep with an orc again. It just didn’t appeal to me. Cutter went with him after he finished with me, and I took the half-drunk bottle of wine and went to sit in a corner with it, wrapping my black, lace-edged shawl around my shoulders to keep warm. I wanted to go back to the inn. I wasn’t in the mood to party anymore, so while they enjoyed each other’s company, I let myself out.

I was still a little on the drunk side, and I walked a bit unsteadily through the foggy streets. Everything seemed more frightening to me when I was drunk, and though my senses were not as sharp, I felt more alert in trying to focus and get off the dangerous streets. I was starting to wonder if having my father’s Seducer bodyguards follow me everywhere wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, and I wished I could have had them with me that night. Usually Cutter walked me home, but now I was pretty sure she was angry with me.

When I heard a set of footsteps following behind me suddenly, I felt even more worried, and I placed my hand on the small steel dagger Sindorin had given to me, just in case I ever needed to defend myself. If anyone tried to attack me, this time I would be ready.

I was relieved when the footsteps soon faded, as if the person had turned in another direction, and I relaxed. Then all of a sudden I came face to face with a tall, well-built man who looked as if he were up to no good. I nearly screamed.

“Sorry, madwoman,” the gentleman said with an eerie smile. “I did not mean to frighten you. I was only out for a stroll; I love the foggy nights in Crucible. They feel so refreshing, would you not agree?”

I stood there, dumbfounded. Was he seriously trying to make polite conversation with me? Or was there something else, something more sinister, behind it? Honestly, I was terrified, and I no longer had my dagger to protect myself with.

When I didn’t respond, the gentleman smiled. “I can see you are not one for talking. That’s all right.” He looked me over for a moment, then his smile broadened and he raised his brow. “Hmm, I wonder,” he said, thoughtfully. “Would you, perchance, be interested in providing your services to me? I realize that it is quite late, and you were probably done for the night, but…well…I’d be willing to pay very generously.”

Suddenly I realized the man was offering me money in exchange for sex. He thought I was a…a street-walker! I almost laughed. But then…hadn’t I just had sex with Dumag for 10 drakes? And I knew I was in a rather desperate situation, not wanting to be out on the streets, so I put on a smile, and asked, “How much are you willing to pay?”

He pulled out a plain leather coin pouch, taking out a few drakes. Not much, for what he was asking…. But then he tucked the money into his shirt and offered me the pouch that was heavy with coins. I couldn’t believe it. There had to have been at least 20 drakes in there, if not more. I accepted it graciously, and then we went into a nearby alley together, where I gave him his dues.

When the man had satisfied himself, he tied his breeches and walked away, vanishing into the foggy night and I pulled open the pouch to see what I had. I was astounded when I counted 25 drakes, and I had to count it again just to be sure. Now I had enough for one more night at the inn, and a little extra. The thought of sleeping with men I didn’t know was not very appealing to me; however, it gave me a bit of an idea, and I hurried back to the inn to get a couple hours of sleep until the alchemist’s shop opened in the morning.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 16 2011, 05:13 PM

Chapter 8
So nice to see an episode about Thadon! I have been wondering how he was faring, and if he was still on the fast track to becoming the next Duke. He certainly has a much better relationship with his Duke than Syl does! I liked the contrast this gives us to the House of Dementia, where torturing people is the entertainment for parties. Where the Duke of Mania is the life of the party. I think I would like the Manic parties better... Although from the glimpse you have given us of what that it is like to be Duke of Mania, I can see how it would wear people out.

So Thadon is dreaming about Syl? How delightful! Then his considering that the woman in his dreams is just a symbol projected by his on unconscious, showed a great deal of self-awareness.

Chapter 9

Desperation indeed. Poor Syl is finding out that life is not so easy without a silver spoon in your mouth. She is going to have to learn to work for a living, and it looks like she started with Dumag! Hopefully she can find a better way to make money than that. Given what happens later during her midnight stroll, I guess not! Still I wonder what that idea was she had at the end?



nits:
Chapter 8
You seem to be head-hopping again in the first part. It starts with Thadon alone, so that section must be from his pov. Then as soon as the Duke arrives, we are in his thoughts. Then near the end, we are definitely in Thadon's head, as we know that Syl is in his thoughts.

Even so, he was well-built and unbelievably handsome, with soft brown hair that fell to his shoulders, and those gorgeous and unique eyes.
Unless you want us to think that Duke Antonius is bisexual, and has a crush on Thadon, you might want to reword this (if he is, and he does, then excellent!) At least, my impression was that this was from the pov of the Duke? Maybe it was Thadon thinking of himself?

You head-hop again at the beginning of the second part. We start out firmly entrenched in Thadon's pov as he thinks about the blond hottie. Then we suddenly swerve into said hottie's head, as we know that she definitely wanted to sleep with him. And it keeps going back and forth as the part goes on.

Chapter 9
Are you going with a septim and a drake being the same coin? I bring it up because many people have them being different denominations, usually with the septim being gold, and the drake being silver (so that x drakes equal one septim).

Posted by: hazmick Jun 19 2011, 01:51 AM

SYL! I am shocked! Why did poor Cutter get left out, it seems very rude to treat your host in such a way! A brilliant chapter, it is wonderful to see what goes on in that head of yours/hers. I can only imagine what Thadon would say if he heard about this...assuming that he had not consumed his own body weight in greenmote chocolate and still had the ability to speak

Posted by: Lady Syl Jun 21 2011, 04:38 PM

SubRosa:oops! Didn't notice the whole septim/drake thing. I meant for it to be drakes; I'll go back and fix that. THanks!

Pov--that's what I probably struggle with most when writing third person, which is why I think I prefer first person much of the time... thanks for pointing that out. I'll go back and figure out how I can remedy that.

hazmick:Yes, Syl and I have become rather entwined, haven't we? I'm not nearly as naughty as she is, though, lol. Only in my imagination!



Chapter 9.2—Desperation

The very next morning, I went to the alchemist’s shop, hoping to buy the ingredients I needed with what little money I had left. Thankfully, I had just enough to buy what I needed to make that elixir I used to make when Cutter and I would steal money from all those lusty men at the inn. I had every intention of doing that again, at least for a little while, so that I would not be out on the streets.

Muurine was surprised when I knocked at her door asking to borrow her mortar and pestle, and she quickly pulled me inside, looking out to be sure no one saw her welcome me into her house. “Of course you may use my mortar and pestle, dear. You can use anything you need—but what is it for?”

“I…want to make some potions to sell.” Of course, that wasn’t exactly the truth, but I wasn’t about to tell her I was going to use it for a crime spree.

“Come,” she said, “you must be quick. You may use my equipment upstairs in my quarters. Are you hungry? Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you,” I replied with a slight smile. “I do not wish to put you at any more risk than I already am just by being here. I will be quick, and I will let myself out.”

“Well…all right, then,” she said, hesitantly. “Go on upstairs. But let me know if you need anything.”

I thanked her quickly, and then headed upstairs to get to work. Pulling out my ingredients: rot scale and worms head caps for the paralysis, and alocasia fruit to mask the bitter taste, I worked carefully to be sure I got the proportions just right for maximum effect. When I had finished, I had three small vials of my paralyzing elixir, and I tucked them inside my empty coin purse for safe keeping before slipping out without saying anything to Muurine.

When I went back to the inn that night, the proprietor, Sharag gro-Ghoth, greeted me in the same unpleasant manner he always did. He was a rather disgusting man, as were most orcs, in my opinion, and he always stank of sweat and stale beer. I nearly gagged when I came near him, and had to force a smile when I sat down at the bar.

“What do you want?” he asked in a rough voice. “Your stay here expired this morning, so unless you got somethin’ to do here other than loaf around, I suggest you leave.”

“I’m not loitering,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. I scanned the room, scoping for any likely victims in my scheme. There were only a handful of men in the tavern, and none of them appeared to have any of the qualities I desired. Sighing disappointedly, I turned back to Sharag and leaned my elbow on the bar, saying, “I’m waiting for someone.”

Sharag grunted in his usual manner and looked me over suspiciously; and I was pretty sure he was also eyeing my bosom. Disgusting! When I noticed, I shifted myself so that it was not so easily glimpsed from his angle.

“Don’t tell me you’re waitin’ for that other tree-hugging friend of yours,” he said. “I’ve had enough of your little games. Don’t think I ain’t figured it out what you two were up to, and I won’t hesitate to call the guard if you think you’re gonna be doin’ that crap again.”

“I’m not waiting for Cutter,” I said in a snappish tone. “And I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“Well then, in that case, can I get you anything? A drink? Some food?”

“I don’t have any money,” I replied.

He looked me over again and smiled. “You don’t need money to pay for things, sweetness. I’m sure you an’ I can work somethin’ out.”

I wanted to vomit! I couldn’t believe the nerve of that pig, and I didn’t bother to hide my disgust. “Ugh! No, thanks,” I replied with a grimace. “You’re not my type.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, in a disgruntled tone. “Let me guess—your type is some Imperial nobleman, or some fancy-dressed tree-hugger like yourself?”

“Do you treat all of your customers so appallingly?”

“Last I checked, honey, you ain’t a customer.”

Having had enough, I got up and found a vacant table in a corner, as far away from that smelly orc as I could get. He stared at me constantly, though, annoyed by my presence—or was it something else? I did my best to ignore him and waited for someone new to show up—just about anyone with a full coin-purse would do, at that point. That’s when my luck seemed to turn around.

A very tall and good-looking Nord walked into the tavern, coming from the guests’ quarters upstairs. He noticed me right away, and he watched me closely while going to the bar to get a drink. I cast him a couple of seductive smiles and poised myself in a provocative manner, letting my sleeve slip a little from my shoulder and pushing up my bust enough to tease him from across the room. After a few swigs from a bottle of mead, he finally decided to come over.

“Hello,” he said, looking me over and extending his hand. “My name’s Hans. Are you alone, or are you waiting for someone?”

“I’m Arwen,” I lied while I shook his hand. I was a little nervous about doing this alone, especially since Sharag was already onto me, but I tried to hide my discomfort and forced a smile. “Yes, I am waiting for someone—you, perhaps?”

He laughed a little, then wetted his lips and eyed me some more, saying, “I would love to join you. Maybe we can move this up to my room?”

“You must have read my mind,” I said in a flirty way, as I took his offered hand and followed him upstairs.

Behind closed doors, he eyed me hungrily and began to advance toward me, but I stopped him, asking, “Wouldn’t you like to have some wine first? I’m rather thirsty.”

He grunted and walked toward the bed, saying, “Sure, whatever. Make yourself comfortable. Pour yourself a glass.”

I walked over to the small wooden dresser which doubled as a table in his small room, and with my back turned to him, I opened the bottle of wine he had there. Filling my cup, I asked, “Would you like some, too?”

“Heh, sure,” he answered. “Pour me one.”

“Sure thing,” I mumbled, smiling to myself as I started to pour him a glass. Moving quickly and carefully, I pulled out one of the vials of poison and slipped it into his cup. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest, but as nervous as I was about doing this without Cutter, I was also excited. Until I felt Hans grab me by the wrist and roughly jerk me around to face him.

He saw the vial in my hand and looked down at his cup. Then he narrowed his eyes down at me, and growled, “I knew there was something familiar about you. Only last time you robbed me, you were with a friend. You sneaky little wench!”

He shoved me back against the wall, holding me by the wrists, and continued to glare at me, while I pleaded with him, saying, “Please! I’m only doing it to survive! I need the money, or I’ll be out on the streets!”

“So you thought you could make some money at my expense? I should kill you for trying to cheat me…” He stopped and looked down at my bosom then and smiled. “But I’ve got a better idea. I want what I paid for.”

He started to unlace his pants, still holding me against the wall, but I begged him, “Please! Don’t do this! I won’t do it ever again, I swear! Wait! Just don’t hurt me! Please!”

He stopped for a moment and looked into my eyes. “So, are you gonna come willingly to my bed? If I don’t get a piece of you, I just might turn you into the authorities. You think being locked away in Corpserot Passage is better than being on the streets? Go ahead and give it a try!”

I shook my head, terrified at the thought of going to prison. “No, please! Don’t turn me in!” I went over to his bed and laid back; pulling my skirts up a little, I said, “Do with me as you please. Just don’t call the guard….”

He smiled with the satisfaction of knowing he was getting his way, and then he approached the bed. I was terrified, but at least he kept his word. When he was finished with me, he shoved me out into the hallway and locked himself inside—he wasn’t going to turn me in for stealing from him. I was safe—for now.

Posted by: hazmick Jun 21 2011, 05:24 PM

WOWZA! I certainly didn't expect that! Should've stuck with the potions and made some money there, just to keep things safe. I hope Syl has learned her lesson...never seduce a man without Cutter there to help you...is that the lesson? A brilliant chapter, keep up the good work!

Posted by: mALX Jun 23 2011, 05:13 AM

Sorry it took so long to get over here and read, this month has been unbearably hectic so far.

It is shocking to think of the Syl in game going through all this, and I keep wondering if it is what eventually drives her to set up that underground sanctuary with the tunnel system leading into the Palace. Great Write !!

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 23 2011, 04:59 PM

“Last I checked, honey, you ain’t a customer.”
rimshot please!

Arwen Syl tried the same stunt on the same guy twice! Doh! She really needs to pay more attention to their faces! It ended predictably. Poor girl. This is certainly quite the change from her sheltered life in the palace.

Posted by: Lady Syl Jun 28 2011, 03:47 AM

hazmick: Of course that's the lesson! What other lesson could she learn from this?

mALX: This, perhaps, and many other things contributes to Syl's paranoia... She's living a hard life, unfortunately...

SubRosa: I think with Sharag's line there, Syl got her pride hurt a little, eh?

Yeah, she wasn't really paying close attention, was she? She was pretty disoriented, most likely... Sadly, there is more struggling on the way for her, before things get better....



Chapter 9.3—Desperation

After being caught by the Nord, there was no way I was going to try that little stunt again. Not without Cutter, anyway. But now I was left in an even more desperate situation, and I had to stay on the streets that night. I found some shelter in an alley, keeping myself hidden behind some crates, but I couldn’t sleep. The ground was damp and cold, just like the air, and I was terrified in such a situation. I shivered, pulling my now tattered and dirty shawl around myself, closing my eyes to ignore the insects that were flying and crawling all over the place. Mosquitoes bit me anywhere they could find bare skin, and I wanted to cry because I was so afraid of being on the streets. When I felt something crawling on my ankle, I screamed and leapt up, running from that place until I was near the inn again.

It was so cold that night, and a light rain was beginning to fall. There was no way I was going to sleep on the streets. But the only other option I could see at that moment was to prostitute myself at the inn. A shiver ran down my spine when I thought about the spider that had been on my ankle before, and I decided that I would rather sleep with a stranger than to sleep with insects in the mud.

When I went into the tavern, there was a lot more commotion than there had previously been. The larger amount of people meant there was more to choose from, and it didn’t take long for some of the men to show an interest in me. I felt a mixture of embarrassment and shame when I accepted an offer and followed the man up to his room. I was grateful it was quickly over with, and I had earned myself 12 drakes for my services. But that was still not enough for even one night at the inn, so I had to go back down to the tavern and find another man to provide my services to. This would become a nightly ritual, necessary for my survival during that period in my life.

I learned quickly to ask for the money up front, because I had a couple of customers leave after having me, without having paid. It infuriated me, but I felt helpless in my current situation. At least there was a pretty steady flow of customers, because there were people who were constantly moving around through the Isles. Back then, it was almost too easy for people to get into the Realm, whether they were welcome or not, and most of the men I went with I would never see again. There were a few times when I ran into men from my father’s court, and they could easily recognize me. At first, I was worried. But then I found that those men were just as eager to pay for me as any other. There was no such thing as a gentleman in bed.

I never had a problem finding customers, and before long I was making enough money to do more than just survive, and I had my own room at the inn. There were plenty of men around who were more than willing to pay a good price, in order to have their way with an attractive young woman, no-strings-attached. All I had to do was look good, show a little skin, and drop subtle hints that I was available. Then the men would come to me in order to live out their darkest fantasies, or simply for a quick fix. The job was easy, and it paid well. The best part was the sense of anonymity between me and my customers—save for the ones from my father’s court. The men didn’t care who I was or where I was from, as long as they could have their way with me for awhile. And for the time being, that was just what I needed.

A couple of weeks went by without hearing from Cutter, and I was still bothered by the way she had acted toward me that night I slept with Dumag. She was the best friend I had ever had in Crucible, and one of the few who were loyal, and I didn’t want our friendship to come to an end over petty disagreements. I hoped I had given her enough time to cool off, if indeed she was upset with me, and I went to the smith shop to talk to her one afternoon.

When I went in, I nearly ran into Ushnar, who was sitting on the floor, playing and giggling with his puppy. I playfully tussled with his hair and said hello as I walked past him, heading toward Cutter and Morga at the other end of the chamber. Morga was showing Cutter how to work with some kind of dark metallic material, and they both glanced up at me when I approached them.

“Hello, Syl,” Morga greeted me with a smile.

“Hello, Morga,” I replied, glancing at Cutter, who looked away without as much as a polite greeting. That didn’t bode well. But I tried to ignore it, and continued talking to the master. “May I speak with Cutter?”

“Sure,” Morga answered, apparently unaware of Cutter’s anger toward me. “Just give us a few minutes to finish up, and then she’ll be right with you.”

“Thanks,” I replied, noticing as Cutter let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. Her attitude made me start to feel nervous, but I continued ignoring it, and went over to Ushnar, to ask him about his new puppy.

When they were finished, Morga sent Cutter my way. She came over to me, wiping her hands on her blacksmith’s apron, and asking, “You wanted to talk to me?”

I stood up and nodded my head, and Cutter told me we could talk in her chamber.

“Well, what is it?” she asked, once we were alone. “It’s been really busy the last couple of days, so I don’t really have much time for idle chatter, you know? Morga’s teaching me to work with madness ore.”

Her manner was abrupt, and I felt a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “I don’t understand this, Cutter,” I finally said, after trying to think of how to start.

“Understand what?”

“This,” I replied. “The other night, when Dumag wanted us to…do things with each other…. I don’t understand why you are angry with me. I mean, why were you so offended that I didn’t want to do things like that with you? Are you just trying to please Dumag, by doing whatever he wants?”

“It’s not about Dumag, Syl,” she said with a sigh.

“Then what is it about?”

“Don’t you get it?” she asked, losing her patience. “Do you really not know?”

“No, Cutter, I don’t know,” I replied. “You’re not being very open with me, and I’m lost.”

She let out another sigh and sat on the side of the bed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “Syl, I…I like you. I like you a lot.”

“And I like you, too, Cutter. That’s why we’re friends.”

“Are you really that naïve? Syl, I don’t want us just to be friends. I…I’m in love with you.”

Cutter’s confession left me even more stunned and confused, and I had not been expecting such an explanation. I didn’t know what to say, and all I could think of was, “But…I thought you liked men?”

“I do,” she said with a shrug. She appeared to be vulnerable, which was so unlike her. “But I also like women. I like both, and I have for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, it confused me. My father nearly beat me to death when he caught me kissing the neighbor’s daughter in the barn, when I was twelve. He sent me to live with my uncle, who forced himself on me nearly every night. My father knew, but he said it would teach me a lesson about where I belonged. I hated living there, forced to do chores around the house while my uncle sat on his rump all day, eating and drinking with friends. So, when I was fifteen, I finally decided I’d had enough, and I murdered my uncle and ran away. Morga found me wandering the streets, and she took me in. I took an interest in her work, so that’s when she decided to train me as her apprentice.”

“You never told me all of this,” I responded. “I thought you came to Crucible with the intention to be an apprentice.”

She shrugged. “I don’t like to talk about it, you know? Some people just wouldn’t understand.”

I was quiet for a moment, as I tried to think of something to say.

“I’m sorry,” Cutter said suddenly. “I can see that you’re not interested in me that way, and I understand. I just had hoped that…maybe you could love me, too. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. It confuses me more now than anything else before.”

“Cutter,” I said slowly, trying to be honest without hurting her feelings, “it’s not you. I like men. I only like men…in that way, I mean.”

She nodded slowly and turned her face away, almost ashamed. She might have even been trying to hide tears, as she was never one to show those kinds of emotions to anyone. “You can go, if you want,” she said in a quiet voice. “I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.”

Instead of leaving, I walked over to sit beside her, taking her hand and smiling slightly. She looked at me, surprised that I wasn’t running away from her as fast as I could go. “Cutter, I’m your friend. I don’t care that you like women and men the same. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Not even that I said I’m in love with you?”

“Well, I’ll admit that it does make me feel a little uncomfortable…. But as long as you understand that I can never feel the same, and as long as you’re okay with it, then…I’m okay with it, too.”

For the first and only time in all our lives, I saw a tear slip down Cutter’s cheek. She smiled then, and threw her arms around me, grateful that I was not going to abandon our friendship because of this. When she had us become blood-sisters, she had meant it when she said we were bonded for life. Even though we have since had a falling out and we rarely speak to each other these days, we will always share a bond that goes deeper than we ever thought was possible.

Posted by: hazmick Jun 28 2011, 01:18 PM

Hooray for Cutter! I'm happy that the two Bosmeri have managed to sort things out between them, Syl needs all the friends she can get at the moment. Now they can both get back to business

I particularly enjoyed seeing Ushnar in this chapter, showing his love of dogs from an early age. Maybe that puppy ends up being his Skinned Hound? I'm interested in the reason for his fear of cats, is that something you shall be visiting?

Posted by: mALX Jul 2 2011, 03:54 PM

GAAAAAH !!! What reason could there possibly be????? HUH????? ROFL !!!!


I too thought it was a great touch to show Ushnar's beginnings with dogs. Syl redeemed herself in my eyes a bit with this chapter, Great Write!

Posted by: hazmick Jul 3 2011, 12:14 AM

"What a lovely dog, mind if I stroke him"......"I honestly didn't mean to set that dog on fire!"

Posted by: mALX Jul 3 2011, 12:51 AM

SPEW !!! What could that mean? ROFL !!!

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 11 2011, 08:19 PM

Poor Syl! Teresa could have given her some pointers on finding a good place to squat. I wonder what that was curling up against her ankle? A cat, or a rat!

So back to the tavern it is, where Syl has already learned some of the harsh realities of prostitution, such as being stiffed by her customers (I tried to avoid the pun, but there is no way around it).

The real gem here is of course Syl's utter cluelessness concerning Cutter's feelings for her. Yep, sometimes people can be just that blind to another affections, no matter what the genders involved. I have to admit to being in that position myself once. Poor Cutter, I have also been in the same position as her. Like the song goes, Love Stinks.




Nits
forced to do chores around the house while my uncle sat on his british boat all day
It appears that one of Her Majesty's naval vessels has made its way into the Shivering Isles. Probably looking for mad King George...

Posted by: Lady Syl Jul 13 2011, 02:01 AM

hazmick:Ushnar has always been one of the few orcs I have ever liked! As for his fear of cats...we'll see.

mALX:I'm relieved she redeemed herself!Hopefully she will continue to do so, now that she's hit rock bottom--the only way to go is back up!

SubRosa:Eek! Whatever it was, I'm sure Syl never wants to find out! Especially if it was a spider...
She has inherited my arachnophobia, though I haven't really mentioned it in the story just yet, lol.

And thanks for pointing out the british boat! It's rather odd that he would keep a boat in his house, instead of using a chair!





Chapter 10.2—The Breton Farmer

My career was not entirely without gratification, and a few of my clients were actually enjoyable, though most of the time it felt like a chore and I would nearly have given anything to never have sex again. However, there was one client who left a particularly profound impact on me—a man by the name of Claude Petrick. He was an older man of somewhat limited means, but he approached me one night and asked for my services. He seemed shy about it, almost like he felt ashamed, but he offered enough drakes to satisfy me, and I went up to my room with him.

He was very impressed, and after we had finished, we lay in the bed together, and he stared up at the ceiling to recover from his awe, saying, “I haven’t been with a woman like that in years….”

I was used to such comments, many which were false, but I smiled faintly and took a sip of wine to quench my thirst. He rolled over onto his side to examine my slender form, and I saw him watching me, though I pretended not to notice.

“How old are you?” he asked suddenly. “You seem very young to be a…a…well, a…”

“A prostitute?” I finished for him, seeing that he was trying hard not to offend me. He nodded, and I smiled. “I’m eighteen. I’m quite old enough.”

“Eighteen?” he asked, somewhat shocked. “I was hoping you were at least a little older than that…. I thought elves always looked younger than they really were?”

“We do,” I replied. “When we’re older.”

“Oh…I see.” He became silent and turned over onto his back. He was bothered by my young age, but I didn’t know why. I had been with plenty of men who were his age, some even older, and none of them concerned themselves with my age.

Moving closer to him, I began kissing his chest, and he didn’t stop me. But he wouldn’t look at me. Smiling, I asked him if he wanted more. He looked at me finally, and I could see that he did. But he only sighed. “I can’t afford it. I shouldn’t have had you even once. But I couldn’t resist you…. I’ve never been good at resisting temptation. I thought I had cured myself of that flaw long ago, but…I guess I was wrong. You were too irresistible.”

“Are you married?” I inquired. He was surprised that I would even ask.

“How did you know?”

I smiled. “The married ones are the only ones that ever stay and talk. And you talk as if you are harboring guilt for having me. Your wife will be displeased.”

“Yes,” he replied with a nod. “She will be—if she ever finds out.”

“Is she beautiful?”

“She used to be. But now….”

“But now she’s old and marred,” I finished. All men were the same.

“Well, yes,” he replied, slowly. “But that’s not why she isn’t beautiful to me now. She is a very cold and spiteful woman, cruel to me and abusive to our children. I loved her once, but that was a very long time ago.”

“How many children do you have with her?”

He looked at me sideways and answered, “Eleven.”

I was amazed, and even somewhat disturbed. Elves could never have that many children—and thankfully. Most only conceive once or twice, some never at all. Children are very rare among our race, so they are most precious to us when they come. With humans and other races, it was not so much.

“I can’t imagine having eleven children,” I said aloud. “That’s so many….”

“Well, we humans can’t stop having children very easily, unless we stop having sex altogether….” I smiled, and he did too. Then he continued. “It’s good, though, because we live on a farm. So, there is plenty of help once they all become old enough to work.”

“A farm? Where?”

“Just outside Ashwood,” he replied. “Have you ever been there?”

“Yes,” I replied, pensively. “Many times... I have a friend who lives there.”

“Do you? Who?”

“He’s high elf. His name is Sindorin.”

“Oh, Sindorin! I know him quite well, actually. He hunts for us sometimes, and we trade—his meat for our produce and eggs. How do you know him?”

“He’s…just an old friend,” I replied. “Almost family…. H-How is he?”

“Oh, he’s well, I would imagine--though he seems more down than usual, for some reason. Spends most of his days and nights out hunting, but that’s the way he’s always been. Don’t see him all too often, ‘cept when he brings us some of his kills for trading—once a week, usually. If you want me to, I’ll tell him you said hello.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. He…wouldn’t know me anymore.” I lay back and let out a sigh, and he knew better than to go on about it, as he saw that the subject made me uncomfortable.

“Have you ever been to a farm?” he asked, changing the subject.

“No. I’ve only ever lived in the city.”

“It’s a much different lifestyle,” he replied. “A lot of hard work. But the children don’t mind. Keeps ‘em healthy, and strong.”

“How old are they?”

“Well, my youngest, Irene, is four. But my oldest…well, he’s twenty-six.”

“Oh,” came my reply. His oldest was eight years older than me. No wonder he was somewhat disturbed when he found out my age.

He smiled and looked at me. “I’m Claude, by the way. Claude Petrick. Might I have the privilege of knowing your name?”

“I don’t usually give out that information to my clients,” I replied. Then I smiled, and said, “But I’ll make an exception, because I feel I can trust you. My name is Syl.”

“Syl,” he repeated, thoughtfully. “You have the same name as Lord Gelebor’s daughter….”

I turned away and sat on the side of the bed, saying, “It’s…just a coincidence.”

Claude eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then said, “Quite a coincidence, madwoman. Not a very common elven name, I should think. Never heard it before, other than the Duke’s daughter….”

I looked at him over my shoulder and let out a sigh. “If you know so much, then you must know that my father isn’t speaking to me now.”

“So I’ve heard. They say you tried to kill his wife.”

I rolled my eyes and got up, grabbing my clothes to get dressed. “She wasn’t his wife when it happened, and there’s a lot more to the story than what’s been circulated in the gossip circles. That murdering fetcher would have very well deserved to die by my hand.”

“Who did the Lady Alanwen murder? I’ve never heard any of this, milady.”

“She is responsible for my mother’s death; but she has my father under her spell, so he covered up her treachery and swept it under the rug. But I’ll avenge my mother’s death, when the time is right. Alanwen will not get away without punishment.”

“But, I thought that….” He stopped himself, suddenly, clearing his throat with discomfort. Then he got up and came near me, taking my dress, which I was about to slip on, and laying it on the side of the bed. Then he took my face in his hand, looking down at me with caring eyes. “I believe you shall have your vengeance one day, madwoman. But do be careful about it, when it happens, as I should hate to have something happen to such a fine young woman. And I promise, I shall not tell a soul about anything you have said to me, nor about your identity. I shall take it to the grave with me.”

“I believe you speak honestly, Mr. Petrick,” I said, looking into his sincere brown eyes. “A rarity, indeed….”

He smiled. “What am I worth, if not my word?”

“I like you, Mr. Petrick,” I said suddenly. “If you want, I’ll let you have me for the remainder of the night, free of charge. What do you say?”

“Well, I would love that, milady, but…wouldn’t you be losing out on other customers?”

I shrugged. “I have enough for now. One time won’t make any difference to my survival. Do you want me then, or not? The offer won’t last forever.”

He smiled, and replied, “How could I refuse such a generous offer?”

“But, there is one thing,” I said, before letting him undress me again. “You have to promise that you won’t tell anyone about this deal—if word got out, I’d go out of business.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” he replied. “You have my word.”

******

Claude Petrick was a very gentle and passionate lover, and he was more than impressed with me. Though he was in his late forties, and, being human, certainly looked his age, I grew quite fond of him over the next couple of months. He came to Crucible once every two weeks just to see me, though he really couldn’t afford it. Knowing his financial state, I let him have me for very little pay, and it quickly turned into a full-fledged affair. It did cost him, though. He had to lie to his family about why he was going to New Sheoth every other weekend, and that bothered him only because he was an honest man who loved his children.

Claude was fascinated with me—as a woman, as a lover, and as a friend. He said that I made him feel young again, and he found in me something he had not found anywhere else—a sense of freedom and a lack of judgement. He even said that he was in love with me, though he knew that I was not in love with him. But I liked him, and he made me feel good about myself again. We both found something in each other that could benefit us in one way or another, and I would always appreciate what he brought to my life.

I continued to sell myself during the week, while spending my weekends with Claude. We would sometimes just talk for hours, getting to know each other on a deeper level. And while I never fell in love with him, he held no illusions that I ever would, so he was never bothered by it. He just appreciated my acceptance of him, and I was happy to have some form of a relationship with a man for once. It had been awhile since I’d had a man who wanted more from me than just sex. Claude was a good man, and I shall never forget him.

The relationship, good as it was, would have to come to an end eventually, of course. It ended somewhat abruptly, when he simply stopped coming to me, and I never saw him again. I thought of him from time to time, hoping his life was going well, and grateful for the ray of light he had shined into mine. But for all the good my affair with Claude Petrick had brought to my life, the repercussions I would have from it would be a thousand times greater. My punishment for having that affair would devastate and change my life forever, though it was too far ahead for me ever to see it in time to stop it. For, how could I have seen what was to come…?

Posted by: hazmick Jul 13 2011, 10:44 AM

Hooray, Syl made a friend. Although I have never used prostitution to find friends it seems to work for her The abrupt end to Claude's visits worked well, as does the mysterious ending. I am officially intrigued.

Posted by: mALX Jul 18 2011, 04:07 AM

GAAAAH !! Foreshadowing !! Urg !!! Great Chapter !!! And I have to agree, great to see Syl find a friend. Now I am eaten up wondering what the trouble it brings will be and why he stopped coming suddenly !!

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 18 2011, 04:49 PM

Claude Petrick is certainly an interesting character. You portrayed him very well, giving him a great deal of depth, and making it easy to feel sympathy for him. He certainly had a good effect upon Syl! At least for the moment. The ending certainly leaves some ominous threads dangling...


nits:
That murdering [censored]
I suggest a forum-friendly term here, like fetcher.

Posted by: Lady Syl Jul 19 2011, 11:58 PM

hazmick: The Claude mystery makes for a really great twist later on in the story. It's my hope that by the time it all makes sense, you will have nearly forgotten about it...

mALX:I just had to give her one nice guy to make the prostitution gig less miserable for her....

SubRosa:Thanks for the tip. It's so hard, becausee while I understand the censoring, it takes away so much freedom of expression... I'll take your advice though. Fetcher is a good lore-friendly word, too.




Chapter 11.1—The Penitent One

When I arrived at the inn one Middas night, Sharag immediately cast me a dirty look, as usual. I merely smiled and set 20 drakes on the counter, which was the price for a room for the night. He begrudgingly set the only available room key on the counter, and then asked, “So, when do I get a piece of you?”

“Not even in your dreams,” I replied, reaching to grab the key with a smirk on my face. But he grabbed my hand and held it down tightly.

“You know,” he said, “you could have your rooms for free every night, if you would just give me some every once in a while.”

I pulled my hand away, along with the key, and gave him another smirk, saying, “I would never profane myself with such filth, for any price.”

Sharag only growled as I walked away, making myself comfortable on a bench near the wall. Sitting in a provocative manner, with my skirts lifted just enough to reveal a hint of my gartered thigh, it didn’t take long for me to snag my first client for the night. I winked at Sharag as I took the man to my room to service him; when the man had satisfied himself, he left and I began to get cleaned up so I could go down to wait for another customer. A few moments later, however, a knock came at the door, and I was surprised to see Sharag standing there when I opened it. He stank of beer and sweat—nothing out of the ordinary—and I had to take a step back from him in order to breathe.

“What do you want?” I asked of him, not even bothering to hide my displeasure.

“I want to have a word with you,” he replied. “Let me come in, or I’ll come in anyway.”

“I’ve not one word to throw at a dog,” I said, my well-known sharp tongue coming to play. But this only angered the beast, and he came into the room, slamming the door shut before coming at me. I didn’t have time to snatch my dagger off the night-stand before he grabbed me by the throat and shoved me back against the wall, prepared to choke the life out of me. I tried to fight him off, but he was much larger than I was, and at least twice as strong. I was no match for him without a weapon.

“You want to call me a dog one more time, you smart-mouthed little tramp?” he asked, beginning to squeeze my throat with just one hand. I began to feel faint, and my whole body tingled, as I felt the life draining from me with the loss of air. But just before I would have blacked out, he released me and I fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

Before I was able to get back up, Sharag grabbed me by the arms and nearly threw me onto the bed. I began kicking and screaming, but then he only became more violent, slapping me and holding me down with much force. “So, you can sell yourself to every man that walks through the door, but you won’t have me for any price?” he asked, holding my wrists above my head. “Fine then—go ahead and keep fighting. That’s how I like it, anyway.” He began to pull up my skirts, and he forced my legs apart. “I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, even before you came waltzing into my tavern with that friend o’ yours. Don’t think I don’t know who you really are, Syl.”

I managed to pull my dagger off the table nearby, having just enough time to thrust it into his side before he could stop me. Letting out a roaring yell, he grabbed the dagger from his side and looked at it, then at me. “You’re a sneaky little witch, ain’t you? No matter. I like a little pain to make it more exciting.” He slapped me across the face very hard, then tossed the dagger to the floor and healed himself with a spell. I was shocked that it hadn’t even fazed him.

As he proceeded to force himself on me, I tried screaming for help, but he covered my mouth with his big, filthy hand. It didn’t last very long, and I was relieved when he left without doing it again. Then I lay on the bed, completely still, and it was only then that I allowed my tears to fall. I tried to get off the bed, but then I collapsed to the floor and began to throw up.

I left Crucible Inn through the back entrance, not wanting to be seen, and I just began running with no destination in mind. I just wanted to get away—as far away from there as possible. I ended up in a deserted alley, where I fell to my knees in the pouring rain. I laid my face in my arms, over an old crate that was there, and wept without holding back. I had never been more humiliated and ashamed in my life, and the feelings of helplessness it left me with was terrifying. I was all alone, with no one to talk to, and I was certain that there was no one who really even cared.

Cutter was working late that night, even after Morga had gone to bed, when I came knocking on the door of the smith shop. She was surprised to see me, but what shocked her more than anything was that I looked disheveled and dirty, soaked to the bone and my eyes red from crying.

“Syl?” she asked, looking at me with concern. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

I couldn’t think of what to say, but when a fresh tear slipped down my cheek, she put her arm around me, and pulled me inside without waiting for an answer. It was then that I threw my arms around her neck and began sobbing again, saying, “Cutter, he raped me….”

“What?!” she gasped in alarm, taking me to sit in a chair. Then she knelt by my feet, and said, “Tell me what happened.”

I pushed back my tears and swallowed hard, then began, “At the inn, where I was working….”

“Working? What do you mean?”

Sniffing a little and looking down at my hands in shame, I hesitated before saying, “It started by accident, sort of…. I was…working as…a prostitute.”

This was news to her, and she raised her brow in surprise. But she didn’t condemn or judge me—instead, her face softened, and she put her arms around me in a warm and loving manner. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “This wasn’t your fault, Syl. You have every right to say no to anyone, whether you are working as a prostitute or not. Tell me who did this to you. Did you know him?”

I nodded slowly and took another deep breath. “It was…Sharag gro-Ghoth. I wouldn’t have him, so he forced himself on me in my room there….” I threw my arms around her again, and cried, “Oh, Cutter, it was awful! It hurt so much, and I felt so helpless…. I’m so ashamed of myself….”

She took my face in her hands, forcing me to look in her eyes, and said, “No. You are not allowed to feel shame, Syl. I forbid it. You are not at fault for this, not even a little. That Sharag gro-Ghoth is a nasty, terrible orc! He would have done this to you even if you hadn’t been a prostitute. You are not the first woman he’s forced himself on…” She stopped for a moment, glaring past me as her anger began to boil to the surface, while I looked up at her, wondering if she knew from experience. Then she spoke again, saying, “That beast is going to pay for doing this to you. We must make him see that it’s not all right to treat any woman this way.”

“What can we do?” I asked, feeling as if everything were hopeless. “I can’t tell my father…. He’d kill me, I know he would.”

“We can take care of Sharag ourselves!” she said, a delightful smile crossing her lips. “It’ll be easy—and fun. But you’ve got to clean yourself up and be willing to put on a show.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, no offense, sweetie, but you’ve got to stop wallowing in self-pity long enough to do something about it. Get angry. Get revenge! But first, put on a smile and bring out that delicious little seductress that you’ve always been.”

“Cutter, what are you talking about?”

She smiled. “I’ve got a plan.”



We crept through the shadows and made our way back to the inn, going in through the back entrance, to the guests’ quarters upstairs. I let Cutter into the room I had, and we quickly cleaned up the mess. She helped me get tidied up, and then I got myself emotionally prepared to take on the role that was required of me. With Cutter’s sort of pep-talk, I let my anger come forward, to get past the fear and the pain of what he had done to me. Then I put on the mask of the seductress, covering the anger that was seething just below the surface, and made my way downstairs while Cutter waited in the room.

Sharag was behind the counter, laughing with a male customer over some lewd jokes, when he saw me come back into the tavern. A crude and satisfied smile spread across his face, and he watched me closely as I made my way toward him.

“Back for more, eh?” he said with a snide grin. But when I went around the counter and took him by the front of his shirt, pressing myself against him, he stopped for a moment in surprise.

Forcing a look of desire in my eyes, and a smile on my face, I said, “Oh, Sharag, you have opened my eyes in such new and exciting ways. I didn’t realize you could be such a man.”

After the initial shock wore off, he smiled slowly. “I knew you’d come around eventually. Once you’ve had orc, you never go back!” He kicked his leg as he laughed, and I struggled to hide my disgust as I watched him. But then he stopped, and pointed down the counter at his brother, saying, “I’ll just leave Borzol in charge again. Hey, Borzol! Take over for a few. I’ve got some…business to handle.”

Borzol grunted and nodded his head before turning back to his girlfriend, while Sharag led me back upstairs. Cutter hid behind the door in my room, concealed by the shadows, so he didn’t notice her when we went inside. I carefully moved myself around him so that his back still faced the door, then I pulled him toward the bed, as if I were eager to have him.

Fighting back tears and doing my best to pretend I was into it, I waited eagerly for Cutter to attack, as planned. She sprang on him suddenly from behind, slipping a leather cord around his neck and pulling back tightly. He began fighting and thrashing as I pushed him away, then I fell to the floor and used all my will not to vomit again. Cutter continued to manage him herself, hanging on his back while he thrashed around wildly, trying to get her off. He slammed her back against the wall and she fell, but I pulled out my dagger and went at them, plunging it into Sharag’s back before he was able to attack her. He gasped and fell to his knees.

Letting my wrath come to the surface, I looked at him with a cold and hateful sneer as I went around to face him. “You made a big mistake when you messed with me, you disgusting son of a pig. I hope you rot in hell, fetcher!”

Cutter got up and kicked him to the floor, and the two of us stabbed him to death, likely going over-board in our fury. Then we cleaned the crimson liquid off ourselves and both spat on his bloody corpse, before running out into the night.

We returned to the smith shop, and Cutter took me up to her chamber where we talked excitedly about our kill. Some would say that the right thing to do would have been to go to my father and have Sharag dealt with by the law of the land. But my father’s law would have done the same thing that we did, so in our minds, we were following it. We’re madwomen, Cutter and I, and we did what most madwomen would have done. Sharag had it coming, and we were proud of ourselves for giving him what he deserved. We’re just lucky we never got caught.

Posted by: hazmick Jul 21 2011, 10:39 AM

That...was..briliant! So this is where Cutter gets her strange obsession from, you are doing a wonderful job of filling in the backstories of characters that I never really take much notice of (as much as I hate to admit it).

One bad guy down and another memorable...client...for the record.

I also cannot wait for more of the Claude mystery!

Posted by: Lady Syl Jul 28 2011, 08:11 PM

hazmick:Thanks! I...don't really know what else to say, to be honest. I love that you're enjoying this. It's very reassuring.


Chapter 11.2—The Penitent One

The events with Sharag more or less put an end to my prostitution, and I knew that it was time to face my father once again. I had long since forgiven him for choosing Alanwen over me, but I wasn’t sure if I was really ready to face him. More than anything, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to accept his marriage to the woman I believed was my mother’s killer. But it bothered me immensely, and I longed to make things right between us again. He was my father, and up until Alanwen came in and destroyed everything, we’d had such a good and strong relationship. I missed what we’d had.

If I went and begged forgiveness, would I be surrendering myself to Alanwen, as well as to my father? Or, had I let her win by staying away for so long? It seemed that either way, Alanwen came out as the winner. But which case was worse? That’s when it hit me, and I decided. Alanwen preferred it the way it had been for the last two years, having my father all to herself, with no one to interfere. If I stayed away, she was winning. But if I returned, with the sincere desire to seek redemption from my father, I had a better chance of finding out a way to pull the rug out from under her, and knocking her down off her pedestal. Yes, I had to go back. I had stayed away for much too long.

The House of Dementia was little changed in the two years since I’d been there. Everything remained as my mother had chosen to decorate, and that came as a relief for me. My father sat in his throne in the main hall, looking much older than I remembered; had he been worrying about me since he had disowned me? Alanwen sat to his right, dressed in the finest gown that money could buy. Hmm, I thought to myself, almost laughing at the irony, we’re dressed to match. We were both wearing dark violet satin.

Lucian Jarol, my father’s loyal steward and most trusted friend, sat to my father’s left, looking bored and exhausted, ready for a nap. When all of them saw me approaching, though, every one of them perked up, and their eyes watched me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as I bowed low to my father. Alanwen did not appear to be very pleased that I was there, but I did my best to ignore her, as the mere sight of her was enough to make my blood boil.

“Well, well,” my father said, expressing his surprise. “So, the dissident daughter comes to redeem herself? Or am I mistaken? Speak, madwoman. What brings you to House Dementia?”

“My lord,” I said, bowing yet again to show my humble submission to the man I had revered almost as much as the Madgod himself for most of my life. “I beseech you, Father, for a moment of your time that we may speak in privacy.”

He took a moment to consider my request; then he gave a small nod before rising from his throne to come down to me. Holding out his hand, he watched me closely as I pressed it to my lips. He was looking for any signs which might lead him to believe that I was insincere. Feeling satisfied enough to trust me, he offered his arm.

Alanwen began to rise, intending to follow—she seemed eager to prevent me from speaking to my father alone. But he ordered her to stay, and led me to the private garden, where we could be completely alone—except for the two elite Dark Seducer guards that were always on patrol there.

We walked in silence for awhile, and he wouldn’t even look at me. But he held my arm tightly, his hand over mine, and I knew that he was relieved to finally see me again. He had missed me. I could see that he was holding back. He wanted to speak—to embrace me. But he also wanted to be strong and hold onto his pride. I would have to be the one to begin, though it went against custom. So, I forced myself to stop, and he finally looked at me, wondering why I had. Our eyes met, and he could see that I was truly sorry for having displeased him. That’s when he let go and embraced me, saying, “Oh, Syl, I’ve missed you so. You don’t know how hard it has been to deny you for so long. You are my daughter, my blood—my pride and my joy. But what you did to Alanwen—that was wrong.”

“I know, Ada, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so carried away.”

“I think it was more than just carried away, Syl—you nearly killed her!”

“But, Ada, she has to be punished for what she did to Mama. She killed her! Murdered her in cold blood—and then you go and marry the woman, giving her everything that drove her to commit that crime in the first place.”

“Syl,” he said with a sigh, “Alanwen had nothing to do with your mother’s death. I’ve told you that time and time again. It was…an accident.”

“An accident?” I scoffed. “How was it an accident? Mama died from drinking poisoned wine, on my tenth birthday for Madgod’s sake! There was no accident. If you know why she is dead—if Alanwen truly had nothing to do with it—then why won’t you tell me what happened? My whole world came crashing down that day, Ada. It hasn’t been the same ever since. Alanwen took my mother away from me that day, and then two years ago she took you away from me, too.”

When I had said my piece, my father sighed and reached for my cheek, touching me softly. I closed my eyes just long enough to flush away the tears that had begun to build. “You have grown to look so much like her, Syl,” he said, in a gentle voice. “There’s no trace left of that innocent and naïve little girl I raised, is there?”

“No, Ada. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

He sighed again and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he took my hand, pressing it to his lips. “Perhaps you are ready, then, to know the truth. Come. I must show you something.”

He laced my arm through his and took me to his quarters. Once there, he loosened a brick in the wall to reveal a small cavity I had never known was there; a clever place to hide precious treasures and deadly secrets, which I have often used, myself. He pulled out a small wooden box, using a tiny key which he wore on a leather cord around his neck to unlock it. He seemed hesitant as he searched through the contents to locate a worn, faded note. Handing it to me, he let out a sigh, and said, “This holds the truth about your mother’s death. You…may want to sit when you read it. Here….”

He pulled out a chair for me, which I hesitated to seat myself in. I was afraid of what I would find in that note, though I was eager to know what really happened to my mother. My father seemed reluctant, but he knew that he couldn’t keep the truth from me any longer, as it was tearing our family apart. Sometimes I wished he hadn’t told me, for it was more difficult to bear. Just as the lies had torn us apart, the truth would tear my soul into shreds, and I thought I could never come to terms with what had happened on that terrible, devastating day when I was only ten years old.

Once I was seated, I carefully unfolded the parchment and began to read what appeared to be a note written in my mother’s hand.

“My husband, my child, I am sorry that I must leave you like this. But I cannot bear to live any longer. It may seem hard and painful for you both, but I know that you will be better off without me. My little Syl, forgive me for choosing this wondrous day of you birth as the day of my death. It was never my intention, but I cannot continue to be strong, even for you. Perhaps one day you will understand, and perhaps you will be able to find it in your heart to forgive me. I can only hope it will be so. Please know that even now, I love you both more than words can say, and I do this for you as well as for me. I’m sorry. Madgod, forgive me for what I am about to do…. Adrial.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn’t take it in all at once. I dropped the note, and my father bent down to retrieve it, and to offer me comfort. I began shaking my head, quietly saying, “No. No, it…it cannot be true.”

“Syl,” my father said, reaching to put his arms around me. But I pushed him away and rose from my chair.

“No, I won’t believe it!” I cried, as the first tears began to sting at my eyes. I tried to run, but he held me tight and wouldn’t let me go, even when I tried to pull away, saying, “No….”

I started to go weak at the knees, and he knelt on the floor with me, still continuing to hold me, and saying, “I know it’s hard to believe, Syl, but it’s true. Madgod, I wish that it wasn’t. I’m sorry. I wish I had foreseen it, so that I could have stopped it—but there was nothing I could do. Nothing any of us could do….”

“How could she?” I cried, feeling anger toward my mother for the very first time. “How could she leave me like that? How could she betray me? I thought she loved me…. I…thought she cared!”

“Syl, your mother was a very confused woman. She was depressed, and lonely, and what she did was selfish. But she did love you. She just…didn’t want to live anymore, and I don’t know why.”

“You did this!” I cried suddenly, getting up and pointing at him with an accusing finger. “You are the one who beat her! You are the one who had affairs all the time! You drove her to take her own life! It’s your fault!”

He got up slowly and nodded his head in agreement, much to my surprise. “Yes,” he said, sighing with apparent remorse. “I did. I did drive her there, Syl, you’re right. And I live with that guilt every day of my life. Don’t you think I would give anything to bring your mother back? To make it so that she hadn’t done what she did? Or, at least to make it so that she would have done it on some day other than your birthday, so that you could have a birthday every year without the shadow of that tragedy hovering over you like a thief in the night. I know that I was wrong to treat your mother as I did, and I have served penance for it every day since. But I was not the one to slip the poison into her cup that day, Syl. She did that herself.”

He stopped then and took a deep breath. Then he continued, “I wish to Sheogorath I could give your mother back to you, Syl. But all I can offer you is your father. I am still here for you, and I pray that you have come back to me for good this time. I would hate to see you leave again, knowing that you might never return. I have been worried sick ever since that day I cast you out onto the streets.”

I stood there a moment; then all at once I ran to him, into his arms, crying bittersweet tears at our reunion. I forgave my father for everything that day, and he also forgave me.

Though it was hard, I apologized to Alanwen. She didn’t seem all that thrilled with my apology, but she accepted it with a stiff nod and excused herself. My father seemed uncomfortable, but he told me she was just not feeling well that day. I didn’t believe it, but I was not about to argue. I was sure that she was jealous and disappointed that I was being accepted back into the court, and back into my father’s life. I couldn’t see any other reason for her attitude.

My father practically begged me to come back home, to live in the palace again. He promised to give me all the luxury and comfort that I had been accustomed to before. The only thing he wanted was for me to promise him my loyalty and obedience, which meant living under his law. I didn’t want to be out on the streets again, so I readily agreed to his terms.

Though I knew she was not responsible for my mother’s death, Alanwen and I still didn’t get along. We tolerated one another only because we had to, for my father’s sake, but that didn’t mean we were without disagreements that very easily led to heated arguments. She was not fond of me because she knew well of my hot-temper, having almost been killed because of it, and she was jealous that I had won back my father’s heart. She knew that despite everything, he still loved me more than he would ever love her. But she also knew that I was not immune from disgrace; one fatal slip, and I could lose Ada’s favor forever. And did she ever try to make that happen...

Sometimes she would try to befriend me, even going so far as to be motherly, and when I became cross, I appeared to be the one who was causing trouble. It was a clever ruse for her to devise, but I saw right through it, and that’s what vexed me the most. She would pretend to take the role of loving mother toward me, knowing that place could never be filled by anyone other than my real mother. Only Muurine came close, and that was because she had been like a second mother to me for as long as I could remember.

Along with the loving mother act that she put on, Alanwen also took on the role of concerned mother. This bothered me even more, because I knew that she was using that to make me feel poorly about myself, while appearing to genuinely care about my well-being and my appearance. Usually I held my tongue and tried to ignore her, but finally she had gone too far, and I couldn’t take it anymore. It happened while at supper one evening, only a few days into my return home.

“Why do you insist on wearing such provocative dresses all the time?” she asked suddenly, apparently displeased by my choice of clothing for the evening. The point of no return happened when she added, “You look like a harlot.”

My father stopped feeding himself and looked up in surprise, back and forth between the two of us, and waiting for a reaction from me. I sat there frozen with spoon in hand, looking down at my soup and trying hard not to give in to my fury. She really knew how to push my buttons.

My jaw tensed as I tried to brush it off, but I’d had enough. Finally, I dropped my spoon into the bowl and slammed my hand down on the table as I got up from my chair. Glaring hotly at Alanwen, who sat there with a smug grin on her face, I gritted my teeth, and replied, “Why do you insist on being such a contemptuous [censored] all the time?”

“Syl!” my father cried rising to reprimand me, as Alanwen pretended to be shocked by my reaction. “That is completely uncalled for. Apologize this once!”

“No,” I answered, shocked that he was taking her side. “Not until she apologizes first, for calling me a harlot.”

“I did not call you a harlot,” she argued, “but you look like one with that get-up.”

“Ada!” I said, wanting him to step up and defend me.

“Alanwen, that is unnecessary,” he said. Was that the best he could do? Then he turned back to me, “But Syl, that doesn’t excuse your behavior, nor your language. Apologize to my wife, or leave this table now.”

“No!” I said again, crossing my arms in a stubborn manner. “I will not apologize for speaking honestly about how I feel. All Alanwen has done since I returned is call me names and put me down. She treats me like pond scum, and then uses her pretty blue eyes to make you believe I am making all of it up!”

“That’s not true, you little viper!” she cried, standing up and pointing at me.

“Alanwen!” my father cried.

“See what I mean?” I exclaimed, pointing back at her. “That’s what I’m talking about! She’s a conniving little snake, trying to pit you against me, so that you’ll make me leave again and never let me come back!”

“Liar!” Alanwen cried. “She’s making that up! She’s never liked me and she’s trying to destroy our love so she can have you all to herself!”

“How dare you!” I cried back at her. “How can you just lie right to his face? Ada, why do you take this from her? She’s a deceitful witch!”

“Enough!” my father cried, pounding his fist on the table in order to get us to stop. “Alanwen, you will not refer to my daughter as a harlot or a liar. If you love and respect me, then you must also do the same for her. And that goes for you, too, Syl. You need to learn to control your temper. It is not very becoming for a lady.”

“But it’s all right for a man?” I retorted.

“That is not the issue,” he began to say. But I scoffed.

“Oh, of course not!” I snapped. “Men can yell and curse and beat others into submission, but a lady is just supposed to keep quiet and obedient, taking every blow like a martyr and a mindless supplicant!”

“Syl, you are forgetting your place.”

“Oh, yes,” I replied sarcastically, adding to it with an exaggerated curtsey. “Forgive me, Father, for not remembering where I belong. I forget sometimes that my place is beneath your boot!”

“Syl!” he called, as I began to storm off. “Syl, come back here right this instant! Syl! If you walk out of this palace, young lady, don’t you ever come back!”

I ignored him as I continued walking away, but I took his warning seriously. I went to my quarters and shut myself in, not coming out for the rest of the night. This was a bad start to my redemption, but all of us would get over it. We had to, if we ever hoped to live together in peace.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 2 2011, 05:07 PM

Poor Syl! One cannot help but to feel sorry for her, even knowing what she will turn out to be. She has really hit her lowest spot I think, after being raped by the innkeeper. That was one tough orc! I liked the fact that he was not even fazed by being stabbed. It really brought home what a beast he is.

Her revenge with Cutter was sweet. It was certainly never so well deserved. Here we do see one of the steps Syl has taken to her ultimate fate as Duchess. After this, I expect she will discover that she has a taste for indulging in vengeance. She certainly has plenty of targets in her father's palace...

So a suicide note from Syl's mother. I wonder who wrote it though, her mother, or Alanwen? or perhaps Syl's father? There is one way for her to find out. If she goes to the Hill of Suicides and finds her mother there, she will know.

Finally, a wonderful cat fight and hissy fit by Syl after her return to the palace. I loved the fact that she threw her own father's behavior in his face like she did. I still cannot wait until she kills both him and Alanwen.


nits:
After the initial shock wore off, he smiled slowly. “I knew you’d come around eventually.
Once you’ve had orc, you never go back!” He kicked his leg as he laughed, and I struggled to hide my disgust as I watched him. But then he stopped, and pointed down the counter at his brother, saying, “I’ll just leave Borzol in charge again. Hey, Borzol! Take over for a few. I’ve got some…business to handle.”
It looks like the forum threw in a manual line break after eventually.

Posted by: Lady Syl Aug 16 2011, 10:42 PM

SubRosa: Poor Syl, indeed! But you're right--knowing she will one day rise to be the most powerful woman in Dementia does make it easier to go through this very painful stage in young Syl's life with her. But it is times like these that helped condition her for her role as the paranoid duchess--after all, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger...or insane...right?

Also--I finally got around to fixing the head-hopping in Chapter 8. I hope it turns out better, anyway. Again, thank you for pointing it out to me. The nits you and Acadian have been good about pointing out have been so much appreciated, because it helps me to improve on my writing and be more aware of how I put the scenes together. Thank you.



Chapter 12—Too Early Seen Unknown…

“She actually called you a harlot?” Muurine asked in surprise, as she poured our tea one afternoon, a couple days later, when I had gone to her house to visit.

“Well, she said that I looked like one,” I answered, “but it’s all a matter of word-play. To say that I look like one is the same as calling me one.”

“And your father took her side?” she asked, taking her seat. When I nodded, she shook her head and sighed, saying, “’Tis a shame, I think, that your father would allow his wife to say such things. But he allows her to do almost anything she wants, as far as I’ve seen. She gets away with a lot more than your mother ever did, that’s for certain.”

As she took her first sip of tea, I thought about what she had just said, realizing it was true. My mother had gotten beaten for just about anything and everything, but Alanwen was walking around there with her head held high, acting like an exalted queen.

“You know, Muurine,” I said suddenly, “you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she said simply.

But I went on, saying, “There has to be more to it than what meets the eye. She is up to something…. Even if she didn’t murder my mother to take her place, Alanwen is not a complete innocent. It must be sorcery. She must have him under a spell of some sort, to get away with everything so easily. It is possible, isn’t it? There are spells which can do that aren’t there?”

“Well, yes,” she replied thoughtfully. “Many a clever witch has used spells from the school of Illusion to trick men into loving them, but…Syl, I’m not sure that that is what is going on. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think Alanwen has enough knowledge of spell-casting to charm your father so successfully. No offence, but as poor a spell-caster as you are, I think that Alanwen knows even less about the arcane arts than you do. I don’t think she’s even capable.”

“But I’ve seen her make potions and poisons—she’s a very skilled alchemist.”

“Yes, but alchemy and spell-casting are really two completely different types of arcane knowledge. You should know that. Even the most ignorant mage can learn alchemy, if he has a mind to—but it takes real talent and passion for someone to master spell-casting.”

“Yes, you’re a rarity, indeed,” I said, to which she smiled and shrugged her shoulder.

“I may be one of the most skilled sorcerers in Dementia, but I am not the best.”

“I never said you were,” I replied, in a tease.

“Gee, thanks,” she responded. “Aren’t you a flatterer?” We both paused to drink some of our tea, and then she let out a sigh. “Alanwen is not such a bad woman, Syl,” she said, much to my surprise. “I think you judge her too harshly. I don’t why you insist on hating her so.”

“Since when did you become her biggest fan?”

“I didn’t say I adore her, Syl. I’m just saying she isn’t as awful as you like to think. She’s certainly no saint—I’m not excusing all of the things she has said and done. But I don’t hate Alanwen, and I’ve actually found her to be a fairly decent woman. I’ve just never expressed this to you, because you are always going on about how much you hate her.”

“I do hate her, and I always will. She may not have literally been responsible for my mother’s death, Muurine, but Alanwen played a part in it as much as my father did. If my father had been faithful, and if Alanwen had not come in and interfered, my mother would still be here. It wasn’t until after Alanwen came into the picture that my mother started slipping away. And I will always hold her partially accountable for my mother’s death, even if it was a suicide.”

We both became quiet after that, as there was really nothing more we could say. And after having spoken so openly about my mother again, I felt a renewed pain and even a sense of guilt. Would I have been able to do anything to stop it? Could I have said something, done something, to have convinced my mother not to take her own life, if I had known that it was coming? Had I not been a good enough daughter to make my mother want to stay?

“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly, rising from my chair. “I have to go.”

“Syl,” said Muurine, standing up to stop me. “Please, don’t go. I didn’t mean to upset you--.”

“It’s not you, Muurine,” I assured her. “I…just need some time to think. We can talk some more later. Tonight at the party, perhaps.”

“All right then,” she said, nodding in agreement even though she was still troubled by my sudden change in mood, “tonight. I’ll see you then.”

We embraced briefly, and then I hurried out, trying to suppress the feelings of immense pain and guilt that were brought out by my memories of the past. No matter what the truth was, my mother’s death had always haunted me, and it always would. Nothing could ever erase the pain of losing my mother so abruptly and at such a time as I did. It certainly didn’t help that I had been the one to find her like that. I shall never forget that awful sight; it haunts my dreams even to this day….

When I went through the door from Crucible to the palace grounds, I heard the croak of a bird, and I looked to see a shinning black raven perched upon a branch nearby. I watched it for a moment, as it also watched me, and then it croaked once more before taking off. It was then I heard voices not far ahead, and I soon came upon two members of the Court of Mania, who were conversing merrily together at the foot of the grand staircase.

The moment the two of them saw me, they stopped talking and just began staring. It made me terribly uncomfortable, the way they continued to gape at me as if they’d never seen a Demented woman before, and I kept my distance. What made it even worse was that they began talking about me, and I almost returned to Crucible just to wait for them to leave. But then the fair-haired man took his Bosmer companion by the arm and began leading him away, to return to their wing of the palace. As they left, the Bosmer kept turning to look at me, but his friend continued pulling him away.

There was something vaguely familiar to me about the Bosmer, but I couldn’t make the connection. By the way he was staring it seemed he thought the very same thing about me. While his Nord friend looked at me with mistrust, the Bosmer looked at me with something more along the lines of surprise and disbelief. I had not been close enough to them to recognize him, but there was something which struck me about him from afar, and I was certain that I had seen him before….



Thadon was enjoying the fine afternoon out on the palace grounds, talking and joking with his manservant and friend, Kjell, when Syl came onto the scene. He saw her enter the grounds from Crucible, and he knew that she was Demented because of the distinct fashion of her clothes, so very different from his own bright-colored regalia. He had never paid much attention to Demented women, naturally, though he had intimate relations with a whole league of Manic women. After all, in Mania, indiscriminate sex was not only common—it was a way of life. But there was a limit, even for them, and that’s where they usually drew the line—Demented women were off-limits, and for good reason.

Kjell had his back facing Syl when she entered, so he didn’t see her at first. But Thadon noticed her right away, and for more reasons than her apparent grace and beauty—much to his astonishment, he recognized her as his muse! It was the dream woman he saw whenever he closed his eyes—he was sure of it. But could it be?

“Who is that?” he whispered suddenly, gazing at her in amazement and wonder, hardly able to believe his eyes. Was he dreaming again?

This caused Kjell to turn his head to look over his shoulder at her, and he was immediately wary of the dark-clothed beauty walking a distance away and staring at them.

“Oh! No, Master Thadon,” he cautioned, “do not even tempt yourself by looking at her. She is one of those Demented women; you know they cannot be trusted. She’ll steal your soul, the succubus! Come, we must not stay to be drawn in by her feminine wiles. I’ve known too many who have fallen prey to those she-devils, and converted to their ways!”

Kjell took him by the arm and began pulling him away, but Thadon kept resisting slightly, looking over his shoulder at her, still unable to believe it. Kjell, no doubt feared for his friend, seeing that the temptress had already begun to suck him in with her dark hair, pale skin, and slender figure. He was not going to let Thadon ruin himself over some Demented seductress, when he could have any number of trustworthy and beautiful Manic women, without breaking any rules.

Having seen his dream lady in the flesh only furthered Thadon’s obsession with her, though. Right away he went to his quarters and began a new sketch of his beloved muse. This time he drew her as he had seen her for real, with the dark but elegant Demented clothing. She was Demented, there was no denying it. He struggled with this revelation, but he couldn’t stop obsessing over her even then. It was too late—he had already seen them together, and his love for her had consumed him long before he saw her in the flesh.

His drawing of the dark lady was perfect and beautiful, and he loved this one better than all the rest because this time he knew it was her—she was, in fact, real. From that moment on, he knew that his dreams had to have been prophetic, and it was only a matter of time before they would be together. He could hardly contain his excitement at the thought, and he couldn’t wait to see her again. The next time he saw her, he was going to talk to her. He was sure that she would fall head over heels in an instant, and perhaps they would run away together, and live in Highcross or Hale. She would certainly forsake her Demented ways and marry him, and they would live happily ever after. Thadon was sure of it….



Thadon was daydreaming about his muse that evening, trying to compose a poem to her. His excitement had worn off, though, and his heart was breaking at the realization that their torn world might never allow them to be together. His poem reflected this, as it was less cheerful than usual. He tried to forget about it, but Kjell’s harsh words kept running over in his mind, “She is one of those Demented women; you know they cannot be trusted. She’ll steal your soul, the succubus!”

Feeling discouraged, he dashed out the few lines he had written and sighed. It was no use. The music was gone, thanks to Kjell and his big mouth. He could never have his beloved muse come to him in real life. Somehow he had dreamt her before he’d ever seen her, but the dream’s promise was impossible. Manics and Demented were not supposed to mingle in such a way, though there were some rare cases in which it did happen. Those were all hush-hush, though, because it was so greatly looked down upon. Between Dukes and Duchesses, it was strictly forbidden. That, he was certain, had never happened, and it surely never would, for the rulers of the two Houses were the strongest in their faith about their own side’s beliefs.

Thadon was startled when his cousin, Baenlin, who was only one year older, came suddenly bursting into the room. He was in a good mood, as usual, probably from a fresh dose of greenmote, and he had a wild plan in his mind, which Thadon had never expected.

“There you are, cousin!” he shouted, practically stumbling into the room. “Have I got an idea for tonight! You’ll never guess it, though. Go on, guess!”

Thadon shrugged and shook his head. “I have…no idea. What is it?”

Baenlin came closer and lowered his voice, looking around as if to be sure they were alone. “We’re going to a party tonight!”

Thadon rolled his eyes. “We go to a party every night, Baenlin. Please tell me something new.”

“No, but this one’s different!” Baenlin whispered loudly. “This one’s…naughty.”

Thadon laughed then got up and patted his cousin on the back. “When are they not naughty, in one form or another?”

“No, wait!” Baenlin insisted. “You have to let me finish, Thadon! This isn’t what you think!”

“Oh, really? Enlighten me, then.”

Baenlin put his arm around his cousin’s shoulder and bent in to speak in a quiet voice, but his voice rose as he went on, in a sort of crescendo as he came to the climax. “There is a court ball, celebrating the return of the Duke of Dementia’s attractive and apparently very naughty daughter, Syl—and I’ve scored us free passage to the party this very night! We’re going to party in the House of Dementia!”

“We—what? Have you gone mad?”

“Totally,” said Baenlin. “Isn’t it sublime?”

“You can’t be serious, Baenlin. We’d get in so much trouble. And the Demented would sooner murder us, than welcome us to one of their freak shows.”

“Not if we’re wearing disguises….”

“You’re serious?”

Baenlin nodded, smiling like a buffoon. “I’ve got this friend, a member of the court, and he got us both costumes so that we can fit right in.”

“You’ve a friend from the court of Dementia? What else don’t I know about you, cousin?”

He shrugged. “We did skooma together back in the day.”

“You’re nineteen,” said Thadon. “You can’t say ‘back in the day’. Anyway, you’ve done skooma?”

“Yeah, for a while. I wanted to try something different. It was all right, but it didn’t make me feel good, like greenmote does, so I stopped. But Markus and I have remained friends.”

“That’s lovely,” Thadon replied, sarcastically. “But I’m not interested in sneaking into a Demented party, likely toward my death.”

“Oh, come on,” Baenlin urged. “This could be fun. Think about it, Thadon—it’s never been done before. I mean, not that I’ve heard of…. And we can see if it’s true, what they say about the Duke’s parties.”

“I’m sure I’d rather not find out.”

“Oh, don’t be such a party-pooper, Thadon! Think about the thrill of breaking the rules; the excitement of seeing all those delicious Demented ladies trying to get into our trousers….”

“I think you’ve got the Demented a little confused, Baenlin. They’re not like our women, I’m sure.”

“How can you know if you never find out?”

Thadon shook his head and rolled his eyes. Baenlin stopped suddenly, noticing Thadon’s newest drawing. A smile spread across his lips, and he said, “Not interested in Demented women, eh, Thadon? Who is she? Mmm. Tasty little morsel—if you like brunettes. I’m partial to red-heads, but I can see her potential.”

“She’s…no one. Just someone I’ve seen…. I just wanted to draw something a little different, and I thought she was pretty enough. I don’t know who she is.”

“Well, who’s to say she won’t be there? You might run into her… Get to have a little fun… Know what I mean…?”

Baenlin winked at him, and Thadon rolled his eyes. He was trying not to act excited, but inside he had hope that maybe she would be there. Perhaps his dream would come true, after all?

Letting out a sigh, Thadon turned back to Baenlin. “Oh, all right. But if we get caught, this was your idea. I’m not taking the blame for another one of your ‘brilliant ideas’.”

“Not to worry, cousin,” Baenlin replied, slapping him on the back. “I’ve got this one covered. We got help from the inside, remember? Just be in my chamber at quarter to seven tonight, and we’ll get ready there. Don’t be late.”

When Baenlin left in a hurry, Thadon turned to gaze at his drawing of his Demented muse. He reached out to touch her cheek, hoping that perhaps tonight he would get to do so for real….



My father had planned a court ball that night to celebrate my return, and for it he showered me with gifts. He gave me a brand new gown made of the finest dark blue taffeta, and jewelry set with sapphires and diamonds to match. This was what I would be wearing to the ball, as he wanted me to shine before all who were present. He and Alanwen were both going to wear green, and I joked with Muurine that Alanwen was green with envy because I had returned to my father’s favor.

The night would begin with a feast, followed by a dance, and there would be the usual entertainment. I was looking forward to the celebration, but as the time approached for the feast to begin, I started to feel nervous about seeing all the courtiers again after my two-year absence from court. What made me feel even more nervous, though, was that some of those same courtiers were men I had given my services to while working as a prostitute. Would they say anything? Would they be indiscreet and talk about me, or even be indecent toward me? Would my father or someone else see it and figure it out?

My father came into my quarters, with Alanwen on his arm, when the time had come for us to go to the dining hall for the feast. They both seemed in a good mood, though I knew that my father had been smoking skooma, as I could smell it on him. I’d noticed he’d been smoking a lot more in the last week than he had been when I left two years ago, and it concerned me that his habit had seemed to worsen. I wondered if Alanwen used it, too, but she seemed not to like the smell of it any more than I did, though she apparently tolerated it better.

“Well, my daughter,” Ada said, “are you ready to go face the lions?”

He was joking, and I forced a smile, answering, “I fear I’m no match for them, but I’ll try.”

Chuckling at my reply, my father came to take me by the arms and pressed his lips to my forehead. Then he gazed at me lovingly. “You are so lovely, just like her…. Try to behave yourself tonight, if you can.”

I knew he what he was alluding to, but he wasn’t being in any way demanding—it was more like he was hoping I would become his good little girl again, and I wanted to try.

My father patted my cheek then, returning to Alanwen. When he took her arm and turned back to me, he said, “I have given Lord Jarol the honor of escorting you to the feast. It is only proper that a lady has an escort.”

My smile faded, and I wanted to protest; but then I saw Lucian step through the doorway. Talk about perfect timing….

I swallowed my disappointment and forced a smile as Lucian approached me, bowing like the gentleman I knew he wasn’t. He pressed my hand to his lips, and said, “My lady, this is indeed a great honor.”

“Lord Jarol,” I said, trying to hide my displeasure. “It is good to see you this evening.”

He smiled in a charming but smug manner, and I was sure that I knew what he was thinking. He dropped a subtle hint, by saying, “You look ravishing, Syl. You have matured beautifully.”

“Have I? I hardly noticed.”

Lucien chuckled and laced my arm through his. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” I replied. Then we followed my father and his consort to the dining hall, so the feast could commence. But now I no longer wanted to be there. It was going to be a long night….





To all of my readers: I hope you are not too furious with me leaving you hanging this way. Don’t worry, there’s a lot more, but I won't be posting anymore for now. I am so glad to have you here. For those who leave comments—I appreciate your kind words and have enjoyed interacting with you. For those who are reading and not leaving comments—I have no idea how many or how few of you there are, but I am so grateful to have you reading and I hope you have enjoyed every update.

Posted by: Lady Syl Sep 10 2011, 02:26 AM

Over the past couple months, I've been going back over part one and editing it, to fill it out more and make it even more entertaining and interesting. The first chapter was, by far, my weakest chapter. As SubRosa and Destri Melarg both pointed out, I was doing too much "telling" and not enough "showing." I went back over it then to try to fix it, but it has continued to remain my least favorite chapter, and I knew I could do better--I just wasn't sure how to correct the "second introduction" feeling of Chapter 1.

Finally, a couple weeks ago, I decided that the only way to fix Chapter 1 for the best would be to start over from the beginning and completely rewrite Chapter 1, keeping a few things from the original, but otherwise writing all new material. After doing that, the original Chapter 1 became way too long, though, so now it has been split into two chapters. If everyone here doesn't mind, I would like to start posting the re-written Chapter 1 and the new Chapter 2. Please let me know what you think.

And one last thing--again, I want to thank all of you for reading and offering advice and support. And a special thanks to both Destri and SubRosa, for their advice about Chapter 1--I always remembered what both of you said, and it helped to keep me working on that chapter.



Chapter 1.1--Born in the Realm of Madness

It had rained all morning, but that was no surprise. It rained most days in Dementia, and there was almost always constant cloud cover. The sunshine, then, was a rare gift which I treasured as a young child. Sneaking out of my chambers was too easy in the afternoons, when my governess lay down for a nap, expecting me to do the same. All I needed to do was lie in my bed and feign slumber until I was certain she was no longer conscious. Then I opened my eyes and, with a smile, crept out into the vast palace corridors, eagerly taking the opportunity to slip away in search of adventure.

I was in my sixth year, curious and full of mischief, as are most elves at such a tender age. There wasn’t much to do in the House of Dementia, and even at that age, my father insisted that most of my time be taken up with studying. So, naturally, I found great joy in escaping from my rather tedious and boring duties to use my natural ability to sneak through the shadowed corridors of the palace unseen.

My father’s private garden was only a short distance from my bedchamber, and none of the courtiers were allowed to walk there without my father’s permission, so I could have it almost entirely to myself. Only the royal guards were there at that time of day, while my father was holding court, and with my tiny frame it was easy to go unnoticed by the towering Mazken.

It was always a relief to get out of the lifeless and confining walls of the inner palace and smell the damp, musty air that was always left behind after the rain stopped. The grass and moss were so much softer beneath my feet than the cold, hard stone that was tempered only by a rug here and there. Why anyone would want to live indoors all the time, I couldn’t understand at that age. Being outside, among the trees and the birds and the wide open sky was so much better than being inside, with a roof over my head day and night.

The pale aquamarine glow of the withering moon plants always amazed me, and after hiding myself safely within the bushes and trees, I admired the way the light reflected off the rocks and leaves. But then I continued on, carefully climbing into the weeping willow tree that graced the garden with its sorrowful beauty. I enjoyed sneaking around in the garden, with my father’s guards completely unaware of my presence—I felt courageous and cunning when I was able to fool the hawk-eyed female warriors known as the Dark Seducers.

With a smile on my lips, I climbed across until I was near the door that led to my father’s private quarters, and then I waited for the patrolling guards to be out of sight before I jumped down and started for the door. But then I stopped dead in my tracks, when I heard, “Halt! You are trespassing in the Duke of Dementia’s private garden!”

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, I slowly turned around to face my captor, fearing reprimand. But when I looked upon her face, I felt immense relief. It was Jansa, the friendlier of the two Dark Seducers that patrolled in the garden. Jansa could easily have squashed me, a tiny little wood elf against a towering Mazken, but instead she smiled.

“You need to work on your sneaking, young mistress,” she said, looking down at me. “Perhaps next time you will be more successful at remaining undetected.”

“How did you see me this time, Jansa? I was wearing green.”

“The green of the trees is a different tone than the green of your dress,” she responded in a simple, matter-of-fact way. “But you did better this time than the last. There has been notable improvement.”

“Next time, I will make it all the way to the door before you catch me,” I said, as she began leading me toward the exit.

“I’m sure you will. But for now you must return to your quarters as the Duke commands, so I can return to my duties.”

“Aww,” I whined, as she opened the door that led back into the corridor from whence I came. But before she could usher me out, I heard the deep, stern voice of my father from behind us.

“Is that my Syl Aranel sneaking around in my garden?” he asked. When I whirled around to see his smiling face and dark but loving eyes, I was elated. He held his arms out to me and I ran to him, giggling as he lifted me up onto his shoulders to take me back into the grassy area. “What are you doing out of your quarters, young lady? Am I mistaken, or are you not supposed to be taking a nap with your governess?”

“I didn’t want to sleep, Ada! There’s too much to do and I wasn’t tired!”

I always called my father ‘Ada’, which is the endearing form of the elven word for father, ‘Adar’. Though most elves in the Realm of Madness were no longer in touch with their native elven tongue, in my family we spoke both Tamriellic and the Bosmeri dialect of the elven language. And so, my father often called me his ‘Syl Aranel’, which means ‘faerie princess’.

“My little Syl, not tired?” he asked, feigning shock. “And I imagine you were not interested in practicing your penmanship, either?”

“No, Ada,” I said with a laugh as he lifted me off his shoulders and set me back on the ground, tickling my waist in the process. Then I explained, “I wanted to play outside today! The sun is out!”

He paused to look up through the open roof, squinting his eyes, and said, “Ah, so it is.”

“Ada, why are you always so busy? I wish you and Mama could play with me all day long!”

With a sigh, my father knelt down before me to look me directly in the face and offered a weary smile. “I know it is hard being away from us so often, Syl, but I am the Duke of Dementia. It is my duty to look after the people’s needs. And your mother, as my consort, must be at my side while I am holding court.”

“Where is Mama? Why isn’t she here with you?”

“She is taking tea with Lady Jarol, my steward’s wife,” he replied. “But I am certain that as soon as she is finished, she will want to spend time with you.”

“Can we play outside?” I asked.

“Well, I would imagine that if you ask your mother, she will gladly play outside with you,” he said. But then we were interrupted when my father’s steward, a nobleman of Imperial ancestry, approached with a message for my father.

“My Lord,” said the steward with a bow, “forgive me for interrupting.”

“’Tis no matter, Lucian,” my father replied. “I trust you have good reason for coming to me now, when I have just begun taking my break from holding court?”

“Indeed, I have news that I believe will be most pleasing to Your Lordship, concerning the insurrection.”

“Is that so?” my father asked. Then he turned to me, and said, “Syl, I have some very important business to which I must attend. You may stay here and play for a little while under the supervision of my Seducers, but then you must return to your studies until you mother comes to see you.”

“Yes, Ada,” I replied, hanging my head in disappointment. Then I watched him and Lord Jarol walk away together, exiting through the side door, which is the same one through which I had entered. My father rarely left that way, which struck me as somewhat odd. But very quickly I forgot about it, and instead I began playing.

Jansa and the other guard continued their patrols, and while I avoided the other one, I decided it would be fun to follow closely behind Jansa as she made her rounds. She very quickly noticed me walking behind her and mimicking her movements, but she pretended not to notice me at first, allowing me to have my fun. I could tell she was watching me, though, out of the corner of her eye, and I thought it was all very amusing.

When she did finally stop, she looked down at me, and asked, “Are you trying to be Mazken, child?”

“What’s Mazken, Jansa?”

“It is my kind,” she replied. “Just as you are Bosmer, I am Mazken.”

“But I thought you were Dark Seducers?”

Jansa chuckled, and patiently said, “We are Mazken, but our rivals the Aureals gave us the name Dark Seducer. That is why many refer to us as such, but that is not what we call ourselves.”

“The Aureals?”

“The Aureals are the Golden Saints,” she replied. “They are the ones who serve Mania, just as we Mazken serve Dementia.”

“Oh,” I said thoughtfully. “So…it’s just like how I am a Bosmer in the elven language, but in Tamriellic I am called a wood elf?”

“That is correct,” Jansa replied with a nod. “You have a remarkably quick mind, for a mortal child. An admirable quality.”

She was about to continue her patrols, when I began following her again, and said, “I like you, Jansa. When I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

“But you are not Mazken,” she replied. Then she stopped, seeming to rethink her response, and said, “You can try, if you’d like. But I must continue my rounds. Please stay out of trouble, young mistress.”

She began walking again, and I still continued to follow, this time examining her curiously. After we had rounded the corner, I suddenly asked, “Why is your skin purple?”

Jansa smiled slightly, and responded, “Why is your skin peach?”

I had never really thought about it before, and I looked down at the skin on my hands. After pondering the subject for awhile, I finally lost interest, finding it to be of little importance, and I decided to ask her a different question. “What is that?”

She stopped and looked down in the direction I was pointing, and then she said, “This is a mace. It is a weapon that I keep to protect myself and defend your father, the Duke.”

“What does it do?”

“It does what I make it do,” she replied simply. “If I want it to break a man’s bones, then that’s what I will make it do.”

I stopped and gasped, asking, “Why would you want to break someone’s bones?”

“To keep them from killing the Duke.”

“You mean Ada!?”

“Yes.”

“Why would someone want to kill Ada!?” I asked in horror.

“I wouldn’t know. I am not able to discern what is in their minds when they decide to turn against the Duke.”

“What is…discern?”

“You ask too many questions,” she said finally. I could tell she was slightly annoyed, though I think she was trying to be patient with me. “Shouldn’t you be returning to your chambers now? You ought to obey the Duke.”

“He said I could play for a little while.”

“And a little while has now passed,” she replied. “I think it is time for you to go back inside the palace and return to your studies, as your father commanded, young mistress.”

I sighed in disappointment, but I could tell she was losing her patience, so I decided to obey. Without saying a word, I turned around and headed back—the long way—to return to my quarters.

Once inside the palace, I began walking the short distance back to my chamber, when I suddenly became distracted again. It was my keen sense of hearing which alerted me to the agonizing cries rising up from the dungeon—a grim and forbidding place which, up until that day, I had never seen. Alarmed but ever-curious, I could not resist sneaking down to the lower part of the palace, ducking in the shadows when I heard one of the Dark Seducers on patrol nearby. When she had passed, I continued down the stairs with caution, and peered through the partially open door of my father’s torture chamber.

Seeing the man in chains, screaming and crying and begging for mercy as my father did unspeakable things to him, I gasped quietly and stood there to continue watching, riveted by the horrifying scene. Never had I seen so much blood… Never had I witnessed such a cruel fate as that man’s… And never had I known that my beloved Ada was capable of doing such terrible things.

It was only when I felt someone grab my tiny shoulder and pull at me that I finally managed to turn away from that scene. I let out a terrified scream, but was hushed quickly by Muurine, my Altmer governess.
“Shh…Hush, child,” she whispered. “You are not supposed to be here. Come—return to your chamber at once.”

Muurine towered over me, being high elf, and when I was a girl she had long dark hair that was almost black. She was beautiful and somewhat mysterious, but she treated me very warmly most of the time, and she was unbelievably patient with me though I was a difficult child to raise.

I was in tears when we returned to my chamber, asking, “Muurine, why was Ada hurting that poor man?”

“That ‘poor man’ is one of your father’s enemies, Syl. If your father wasn’t hurting him, he would have hurt your father. But that is the end of the discussion. You were supposed to be napping, not sneaking around in the corridors—do you have any idea how dangerous it can be for you to be wandering around without a chaperone, Syl? You must not disobey your father’s orders—he has legitimate reasons for making the rules as he does, and rules are meant to be followed. Now, to your studies….”

Though I continued to protest, Muurine brought me to the writing desk and made me sit down, where I had to spend the next half hour practicing my penmanship, and trying to forget the awful scene I had just witnessed.

My father was a subject of great confusion for me growing up. He was the most powerful mortal in the Isles, aside from his counterpart, the Duke of Mania, and most of the people in Dementia feared him. Though I had often seen my father’s dark side as a child, with me he was kind and loving, only hard when he needed to be, and never cruel. I adored my father—he was my hero; so, it may come as a surprise to some that I ever became Duchess of Dementia at all—for, the way to the throne was not my birthright, nor my heritage. It was a position given to those who had earned the Madgod’s favor, and anyone was eligible to take control of one of the ruling Houses. How I came to sit on the throne I’ll not go into now, but I will say this much—I did not inherit the throne from my father, as that never happens in Dementia. There is a lot more involved than that, and it is always very bloody.