Once One Was

Snow to Fire

Just here to say that this is a draft of the actual story that I have in mind so I would appreciate any kind of feedback. Also there are some sensitive topics at some parts.  

8th November, 1960 

The freezing cold was no match for the fireplace's warmth in the languid mansion — where heat meant anything but comfort in this so-called family. A family by blood but with lies as a bond.

 Familiar faces yet distance like between earth and the sun. Benefiting only one member. However, the sun has a dead end and so does the earth. This manor is built  on dependence and calling it  nothing more than a weakness.

On this exact day, this so-called family had a daughter. The father didn't want a daughter as he wanted an heir. He managed to come around, if you could call it that, he decided that gender didn't matter as long as the daughter looked like a boy and acted like one.

 Having all of that old money ended up in old cultures that will hold no value in life as time passes.

It didn't help that the daughter looked exactly like him — light blue eyes, pale skin, dark hair streaked with lighter tones, and that same bitter look that only sharpened as she grew. Apparently that was the only thing that made the father love his daughter, the resemblance between them. 

As for the mother, they say she died during the birth but if you asked the father, Sir Vivilian he would ramble about how she was just a random whore even if they were once married.

Even if Sir Vivilian had those ideas about his wife that didn't affect his relationship with his daughter as he still followed his own ideals and tried to make them have a place in her mind.

5 years after that Sir Vivilian raised his daughter in his own ways. Saying age wasn't a reason to avoid politics and self defense. He would cut her hair short and dress her up in his old clothes from the 40's that were all rusty but well kept. The maids didn't know the girl's real name, not like they knew she was a girl in the first place as they called her Morris. Sir Vivilian didn't go far enough to give his daughter a boy name only as her first name was a typical Russian name.

 Unfortunately that name didn't hold place as it was forgotten and now her name was Morris Vivilian only. Holding a last name that she would have burned if she had the chance. Cursed with the last name she didn't want.

Sir Vivilian was dignified as one can be. Even if it was all to hold old values as having high expectations and old punishments. A very old fashioned way.

Morris never questioned those methods back then as she had some sort of connection with her father. Not the most healthy as it should be. Sometimes Sir Vivilian would get her random gifts from anywhere. One of them was a piano that Morris loved as she adored music, music she lived for. 

Only glee in that cold mansion was that record player with Frank Sinatra's voice.

There was no reason for Sir Vivilian to give Morris any satisfaction but sometimes there would be small moments where he could really be seen as a dad rather than a general.

Like that one time he threatened someone who wanted to talk to little Morris, a distant relative during a ball. Sir Vivilian didn't care if there were relatives, higher ups or anyone really. It wasn't the most convenient way to take care of a child but it did work out. Sometimes his methods were absurd even if he would have those small moments. Sir Vivilian didn't see anything wrong with his methods, of course, bringing your 5 year old daughter to a political meeting and letting her hold a gun twice her size is a completely normal fatherly thing.