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TW: Themes of Abuse
January 278 A.C.
Smiles spread across unknowing faces. Turned, watching as the bride made her way down the aisle, toward a life she couldn't escape after. Emerald eyes, dazzling unnaturally from behind her veil. Perhaps it was some sick joke she thought, to be married to a Purist man who hated her, hated who she truly was. She would smile and hide her true self to keep her new husband placated and happy, for she could live in secret if it meant a place in history, a place for her name to be remembered, a place where her children might grow strong.
December 278 A.C
Screams echoed down the hallway, Etienne Peirgarten pacing in anticipation as he awaited his wife to bring forth their first child into the world, a son he hoped. His footsteps bounced off the walls, mixing with the cacophony of sounds until all he could hear were his own thoughts, though they were soon interrupted by a cry and a wail. A baby. He burst into the room and crossed over, staring down at his wife who held the buddled baby close to her chest. Her gaze refused to meet his, shielding the small child from his hateful gaze.
"A daughter. Amelina," Noemie whispered, finally looking up at him with her purple gaze, allowing him to take their daughter into his cradled arm. Etienne thought of many things on this day. A son would bring him an heir, and a daughter could be married off to help the family, but those thoughts came crashing down as the newborn slowly blinked her eyes open, staring up at her father with the same purple gaze as her mother. Disgust. Shame. Hatred. Everything a father shouldn't be feeling on such a day was felt in an instant, recoiling as he passed the child back to its mother, not giving her a chance to explain before he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
"You'll be okay…I have you." Noemie whispered, placing a kiss on the baby's forehead as tears spilled over onto her cheeks.
Smiles spread across unknowing faces. Turned, watching as the bride made her way down the aisle, toward a life she couldn't escape after. Emerald eyes, dazzling unnaturally from behind her veil. Perhaps it was some sick joke she thought, to be married to a Purist man who hated her, hated who she truly was. She would smile and hide her true self to keep her new husband placated and happy, for she could live in secret if it meant a place in history, a place for her name to be remembered, a place where her children might grow strong.
December 278 A.C
Screams echoed down the hallway, Etienne Peirgarten pacing in anticipation as he awaited his wife to bring forth their first child into the world, a son he hoped. His footsteps bounced off the walls, mixing with the cacophony of sounds until all he could hear were his own thoughts, though they were soon interrupted by a cry and a wail. A baby. He burst into the room and crossed over, staring down at his wife who held the buddled baby close to her chest. Her gaze refused to meet his, shielding the small child from his hateful gaze.
"A daughter. Amelina," Noemie whispered, finally looking up at him with her purple gaze, allowing him to take their daughter into his cradled arm. Etienne thought of many things on this day. A son would bring him an heir, and a daughter could be married off to help the family, but those thoughts came crashing down as the newborn slowly blinked her eyes open, staring up at her father with the same purple gaze as her mother. Disgust. Shame. Hatred. Everything a father shouldn't be feeling on such a day was felt in an instant, recoiling as he passed the child back to its mother, not giving her a chance to explain before he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
"You'll be okay…I have you." Noemie whispered, placing a kiss on the baby's forehead as tears spilled over onto her cheeks.
April 283 A.C
A child follows no rules. A wonder to the world of curiosity, where questions are asked and clothing is tugged on.
"Why must I eat my vegetables?"
"Must I read this story again?"
"Why can I not leave the palace?"
"Why does father hate me?"
How does one look down at their starry-eyed child and tell them that their father finds their true self disgusting? How do you tell someone so innocent that their father does not love their mother, that they are bound by laws and the church, one she doesn't even believe in? A little white lie goes a mile, curing the curiosity of a toddler for another day, hoping that the questions are not brought up again.
A child follows no rules. A wonder to the world of curiosity, where questions are asked and clothing is tugged on.
"Why must I eat my vegetables?"
"Must I read this story again?"
"Why can I not leave the palace?"
"Why does father hate me?"
How does one look down at their starry-eyed child and tell them that their father finds their true self disgusting? How do you tell someone so innocent that their father does not love their mother, that they are bound by laws and the church, one she doesn't even believe in? A little white lie goes a mile, curing the curiosity of a toddler for another day, hoping that the questions are not brought up again.
December 288 A.C
Amelina struggles. With herself, with everyone around her, with her father especially. Forced into diplomatic matters, the ten-year-old doesn't understand why this is what she must do. Why can she not learn her magic like her mother? Why must she put these damned contacts in her eyes? They itch. They burn. They hide who she is. Does she even know who she truly is, or is she just a product built up by her father to be a perfect image of a Nobleman's daughter? Day after day learning the same languages and State relations, dreaming of something more. Her hands are raw and red, smacked by rulers from her teachers to pay attention as she drifts off into another world. "They burn," is all she thinks.
Amelina struggles. With herself, with everyone around her, with her father especially. Forced into diplomatic matters, the ten-year-old doesn't understand why this is what she must do. Why can she not learn her magic like her mother? Why must she put these damned contacts in her eyes? They itch. They burn. They hide who she is. Does she even know who she truly is, or is she just a product built up by her father to be a perfect image of a Nobleman's daughter? Day after day learning the same languages and State relations, dreaming of something more. Her hands are raw and red, smacked by rulers from her teachers to pay attention as she drifts off into another world. "They burn," is all she thinks.
August 293 A.C
By this time it was normal. What was once just a means to hide her purple eyes, would soon become a means to cover up the purple bruises littering her body. Everything she did made him angry, it was speaking to a lit fuse just waiting to detonate. Her mother was her savior, but how could she be there all the time with six other children? Unsure and lost on what to do, Amelina built walls, shielding herself from the outside world, creating a place where it was just her and her alone. "No one can get to me in here," she told herself, "I'll just stay in here to keep safe," she repeated. Hiding in the towers of the palace she learned her magic in secret, learned her diplomacy in public, and learned to shield herself away from anything that might hurt her.
By this time it was normal. What was once just a means to hide her purple eyes, would soon become a means to cover up the purple bruises littering her body. Everything she did made him angry, it was speaking to a lit fuse just waiting to detonate. Her mother was her savior, but how could she be there all the time with six other children? Unsure and lost on what to do, Amelina built walls, shielding herself from the outside world, creating a place where it was just her and her alone. "No one can get to me in here," she told herself, "I'll just stay in here to keep safe," she repeated. Hiding in the towers of the palace she learned her magic in secret, learned her diplomacy in public, and learned to shield herself away from anything that might hurt her.
October 298 A.C
Married. Freedom. Love. This is what she wanted, what she had been yearning for. After two years with the love of her life, he knew her true form, and he never shamed her it. He loved and nurtured her, but how could years of being forced into something be undone within the span of two years? She was ashamed, she felt she had to hide it away, and so she did. She continued to conceal who she was. People wouldn't, no they couldn't, know of her lineage. Her father was dead, and she held the titles, but she had an image to uphold. Would her people hate her? Would they welcome her as they welcomed her mother? Her nerves upended her, nearly sending her spiraling before her husband, Rodrigo, brought her back down. Keeping her grounded and safe as they ventured to Regalia, doing his best to keep her safe from harm.
Married. Freedom. Love. This is what she wanted, what she had been yearning for. After two years with the love of her life, he knew her true form, and he never shamed her it. He loved and nurtured her, but how could years of being forced into something be undone within the span of two years? She was ashamed, she felt she had to hide it away, and so she did. She continued to conceal who she was. People wouldn't, no they couldn't, know of her lineage. Her father was dead, and she held the titles, but she had an image to uphold. Would her people hate her? Would they welcome her as they welcomed her mother? Her nerves upended her, nearly sending her spiraling before her husband, Rodrigo, brought her back down. Keeping her grounded and safe as they ventured to Regalia, doing his best to keep her safe from harm.
Current Day
By now she was used to them. The burning and itching had subsided, an extension of who she portrayed herself to be. A perfect image to those around her. Nobles, commoners, no one knew, but why? When so many years had gone by. No more father, no more hatred for those that might be different. Her husband, now a Worshipper of Dragons himself, her son bearing the same purple eyes as the two of them. She never hated what she was born as, but she hated who her father forced her to be. Forced into doing things his way, forced into being a perfect image for him to retain status. She wouldn't hide any further, she wouldn't pretend to be someone she's not. For the first time she would step out into the world as Amelina, a Crown Witch, but she wouldn't be afraid, she would embrace who she was.
Sucking in a breath she stared into the mirror, her lilac reflection staring back at her, she gave a nod of her head and prepared herself only to be taken from her own thoughts by the sound of Rodrigo's voice, turning as she met his gaze.
"Are you ready?" he questioned, stretching his hand out for her to take, a smile spread onto his features as she met his purple gaze with her own.
Taking his hand in her own she intertwined their fingers, squeezing tightly, whispering, "I'm ready."
By now she was used to them. The burning and itching had subsided, an extension of who she portrayed herself to be. A perfect image to those around her. Nobles, commoners, no one knew, but why? When so many years had gone by. No more father, no more hatred for those that might be different. Her husband, now a Worshipper of Dragons himself, her son bearing the same purple eyes as the two of them. She never hated what she was born as, but she hated who her father forced her to be. Forced into doing things his way, forced into being a perfect image for him to retain status. She wouldn't hide any further, she wouldn't pretend to be someone she's not. For the first time she would step out into the world as Amelina, a Crown Witch, but she wouldn't be afraid, she would embrace who she was.
Sucking in a breath she stared into the mirror, her lilac reflection staring back at her, she gave a nod of her head and prepared herself only to be taken from her own thoughts by the sound of Rodrigo's voice, turning as she met his gaze.
"Are you ready?" he questioned, stretching his hand out for her to take, a smile spread onto his features as she met his purple gaze with her own.
Taking his hand in her own she intertwined their fingers, squeezing tightly, whispering, "I'm ready."
