Aeleva; The Viking Saxon

Sneak peek! - Innocent Eyes

OUT NOW!

Hi everyone! Thank you all for reading this far, it really does mean a lot!

I haven't really been writing recently, been very distracted with work. I need to find the time! Any tips would be very much appreciated :)

I am working on a new story! It's about the french revolution - kinda... I have A LOT of ideas for medieval stories! But for some reason, I am writing this one. It will be about unrequited love, revolution, self-conflict and a dash of violence.

Would you like to see more medieval stories? Or another Aeleva? Or do you like the idea of this???

Here's the first chapter. Let me know what you think!

~Innocent Eyes~

I was born on a Tuesday. My mother died on a Wednesday. If I had been born on a Monday my mother would still be with me and not 6-foot underground. My father wasn't present at my birth. He worked in Paris as a blacksmiths apprentice and would always spend the weeks in the city, to only come home to our 'dwellings' on the weekend. After I was born,  he came back to find our neighbour weeping with a newborn baby in her arms.

My father took one look and me and the empty house and turned and walked out the door, never seen again. I do not know what drove him away exactly, perhaps the grief of losing his wife was too much to handle. Or he thought he no longer had a commitment to his son.

A month after, my mother's sister visited. She had received word from the neighbour and took it upon herself to take me in. My Aunt was as a troubled soul. She kept to herself, never had many friends, other than a bottle of cheap wine.

I worked on the village farms for the best part of my childhood. Pierre would bring me stale loaf for breakfast or sometimes hard-boiled eggs. We would eat and talk about things small boys do and watch the sunrise. Then plough the fields till dinner.

When my Aunt fell in love with a man from Paris, my childhood was stripped from me. He was called Hugo. He would come back to the room we owned and demand I find a wine or cider for him to drink. I learnt the hard way to get what he asked for, otherwise, I would have a sore cheek for a week.

The first time I did not know how to react, neither did my Aunt. She shared the same shocked expression as me. Yet, she didn't react, only grabbed his hand to pull him away and change the subject. I sat silent for the rest of the night. Hugo sneered at me, chewing with his mouth open and the stew dripping down his chin.

Much to my surprise, my Aunt fell deeper and deeper in love with Hugo. I hated him the moment he walked in. He had a full set of rotten teeth, and foul breath you could smell without him opening his mouth. His hair was constantly greasy, to the point that he styled it slick back and called it 'the latest Paris fashion'.

Even at 6, I knew he was lying.

When I was 8 the whole of France plummeted into a Great Depression. Hugo blamed a woman called Marie Antoinette, saying she brought too expressive braziers, although at the time I had no idea what these were.

There were days that I went without food and even Pierre couldn't supply me a favour of a crust of bread or a rotten egg. The whole town felt the hunger. Anger rose for Paris and for the bastards who sat on golden thrones eating a country's worth of food, simply for pleasure.

"Little Nicholas," Hugo said as I returned from the fields one day. His ugly face grew into a smile. "I have a beautiful surprise for you."

My eyes glanced at my Aunt who had passed out in the corner of the room. It was winter and so the two blankets we owned were wrapped around her. The fire had been squandered and I wished to place one more log to warm her blue fingers.