Heavy Lies the Head (Terence Higgs)

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This one-shot really has no business being as long as it is ... it's over 20k+ words and it felt like it could have been even longer 

Also, for this story, the character is named because otherwise, it would drive me absolutely insane. This is the first part of my 'Slytherin Sisters' series (which is a rubbish name, but still), and because it's about sisters and there are going to be so many of them, they need names. Trust me, there's no other way these stories will work. I think there'll be about 9 stories in total in this series, which will be posted sporadically (... but aren't all of these posted sporadically?)

Anyway, give it a read and let me know what you think ~

As per usual, it's unedited 

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Moments of peace were rare to come by in my home. It was understandable, with 9 sisters, the lingering memory of the lady of the house, an absent father and a ... live-in mistress, it was understandable that it was difficult to come by a moment of quiet. Salazar, I wasn't sure my sisters really understood what silence meant. For now, there was a short moment of reprieve, if only until our guests for this evening went. But, in the build-up to the arrival of the Higgs family, we were all getting ready to welcome them. Still, if I listened closely enough, I could hear Euta, Era and Rania squabbling amongst themselves about something. Just this once, they would have to make do without my presence as their peacekeeper. I had a very important guest to prepare for; just the thought of him had me smiling.

I didn't dare even look in the mirror, knowing I looked like a fool when I smiled so widely, so easily. Still a voice that sounded from the back of my head, sounding remarkably like Terence, reminded me that he liked when I smiled so honestly. He much preferred my real smile, all gummy and wide, compared to the one I'd perfected to show others.

The sound of my sister's squabbling grew louder and I sighed, knowing I would need to step in. Father absolutely would not step in, not seeing it as his place - rather, it was my place. Certainly not the place of his mistress to step in when her daughter's squabbled. As the only child born from my parent's marriage, a lot fell onto my shoulders, including hiding the truth of my siblings' birth from society. I hurried to dismiss the thought, knowing it would lead to a downward spiral the way it always did.

Peering into the mirror on my vanity, I checked my features in the mirror. It would be my last opportunity to make sure I looked presentable before the Higgs family arrived because any minute now, someone would call for me and I'd have no time to do anything else.

"Cali!" Sure enough, Mellie's voice rang through the house. It was likely that she'd already tried to intercede, probably by pulling rank as the third eldest sister, older than the three that were arguing. They were probably arguing about something silly.

Sighing, I stood from the vanity and left my bedroom. I followed the sounds of the bickering, walking across the hallway towards Rania's bedroom. But, my steps halted at the sight of father who stood in the open doorway of his mistress's bedroom. He spoke to her in hushed tones, as if even still, after almost two decades of her presence in my mother's halls, she was still a dirty secret. I suppose when she was first moved into the home heavily pregnant with their first child whilst my mother was pregnant with me, she had been a dirty secret then. Perhaps it was a small mercy to the memory of my mother that he hadn't moved her into the rooms he'd shared with mother upon her passing. I'd certainly expected it, but it hadn't happened. His mistress remained the sheltered secret, even as she bore him 8 daughters. How could she stand him?

I looked briefly over the pair, knowing I had to brush past them as if I hadn't noticed them to begin with. It was certainly the best way to deal with the bitter venom of knowing that despite being the only true-born Selman daughter, I was the one that didn't belong in this home. By right, it was all mine and yet, I was the outsider. Forcing my feet forward, I held my head high and continued past the adults, briefly hearing my father make empty apologies for confiding his mistress to her rooms for the evening. Did she not realise that despite all the gilded words he offered her, she was nothing more than a caged bird to her, one to put on display around the company he wanted to show her off to and to put lock away when he thought best? If I lingered too long, I would begin to pity the woman and I refused to pity the woman who had unintentionally made the last years of my mother's life hell. If I let myself, my mind would wander to the not-so-distant memories of mother, delirious and in pain, crying out for a husband who was spending his every day showering his mistress with treasures and his every night taking her to bed.

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