"To Fate, a fickle mistress whose sense of justice is exceeded only by her sense of humor." - Teresa Medeiros
I often think of such words. Of Fate; her capricious hands always an aloof touch to mortality. Indeed, Fate's jests and japes are not oft of joy to mortal life. How Fate must smile to watch human minds fix themselves against her games. She now plays one upon me, a vile prank I cannot escape.
"Awww! Isn't she the cutest? Come on, my love, smile!"
Gods above, what did I do to deserve this? Is this to punish my curse upon thee? Is my rage such a matter of import to hold my soul in such a cage? Am I a pride to thou that to curse ye is to ruin?
"Maid Alice, I believe the Young Lady is... Less than amused. If I might suggest playing with her hands instead of her cheek?"
As I shudder, you may wonder what the cause of my torment may be. That is my current state. As I woke, I had thought nothing of myself held in my nurse's arms; I now regret my lack of planning. As to why? I became forced into a dress. One may think this is nothing, as I was already in one prior. However, this dress is to my new maid's tastes: large, puffy, elegant, and worse yet, expensive. I am positive this holds more gold than one gold bar, though I cannot prove such theories.
I hold tight to my nurse's hand to understand my mother and nurse as they converse, though I might not need to since she holds me up as my mother plays with my cheek and hands.
"Janet, does she always appear so pensive?" The younger maid, Alice, pauses her play, and she holds her words before continuing, "I fear she never seems to smile." As I hear such words, Maid Alice rests her hand on mine and her head on the couch. I lower my eyes to see hers: I've learned others like to see my eyes, and in any case, it hides my blindness. From Janet, my nurse's view, I see Maid Alice's eyes hold a soft worry in them as she plays with my fingers. "Maid Alice," the young maid shoots Janet a glare as she continues to use honorifics, "the Young Lady has always been something of... An anomaly. Even when she smiled or laughed, I felt she was thinking. She always was tense when doing so, so please, stop worrying so much. She's doing fine." "Hah..." A sigh falls from Maid Alice's lips, worry crossing her eyes as she squeezes my hand.
I give a slow nod, agreeing with my wet nurse. Maid Alice did not take that well, or so I assume, as her mouth is agape. I sigh; what if a fly was to settle on her tongue? I pause as I seem to have not chosen the best time to critique Maid Alice; I swallow a moment to clear my throat as I tense, waiting for her reaction: Fear, jubilation, worry, maybe a mixture. What I did not expect was for her to turn into a teapot. From her starts a slow squeal that shifts to a higher and higher pitch. As this is my first proper meeting with Maid Alice, I am puzzled at her reaction.
It didn't take me long to realize why she did this, but it was surprising nonetheless. Maid Alice lifts her head, and she begins to laugh, "Janet! She's so cute: how can you not pinch those cheeks?" She takes the same action and wiggles my face around with her hand. As Maid Alice does so, I see myself again through the vision of another, stared at with awe and glee. My face is lax, though routine, as I take more energy in observing than caring for my expression. I tilt my head and stare in disapproval as she abuses my face. Janet, ever the lady, promptly removes Alice's hands from my face, cutting off the direct vision of myself. I am still unused to my predicament of observation. Seeing myself from all angles and through others' eyes is still jarring.
Janet stares at me, but I can see some of Maid Alice's face, though I can not tell her expression, as I am unfamiliar with her: something between a petulant pout and a mirthful grin. I can guess her nature, though it is straining to suggest any of them. As Janet looks from me to Maid Alice to chastise her, I observe the room from her eyes. Strange, I realize, that she did not seem surprised by the blood and gore on my room's floor. I look through Janet's vision and still see the uncleaned viscera. Staining the carpet, chunks of flesh and skin stick to it as the smell of iron hangs loose on the nostril. As I look at where the stench curls from, I realize I feel no aversion to the sight; Curiosity is all that hangs deep in my heart as I try to contextualize my mother's view of the room. I ponder what may be the cause for my lack of empathy: Have I become misanthropic? Or simply cynical. Strange. I thought I held their deaths with fear when last supposed. I sigh and shake my head. Though I lolly in Janet's arms, I still can move my head: How glorious it is to be able to move my head! Sadly, I lament, I have yet to achieve great success with my endeavors to walk. On the nights I can, I act to increase my small body's structure, and yet it yields such minimal results.
As I ponder and muse, Maid Alice pouts and speaks to Janet,
"You are such a spoilsport: I am supposed to be her personal. maid till her permanent one is ready." She lays her head on the edge of the couch again, looking up at Janet. Janet lifts her brow before chuckling, "Nurse Maid, you are a Nurse Maid. You will look after her when her personal maid is assigned until she is ready." Maid Alice clicks her tongue and turns her head, "Tch, and yet I can't play with her a little?" Janet glowers at Maid Alice, "If the Young Lady does not endear herself to your company, I can change your station if you prefer?" Maid Alice looks up at Janet's eyes, her expression sours. I sigh, the two maids bickering and Maid Alice's constant changing of hand hurting my skull, a pounding rhythm crashing into the sides as I loll in the arms of Janet. My heartbeat rings with the rhythm, almost like a wave that pushes and recedes, all until I hear the door open.
Unlike last time, Mother is not wearing a nightgown, of course. Instead, she wears a jacket-vest that appears to flow around her back as a dress; past her waist, she has a pair of pants that hug her legs tight and seem to provide a graceful ease of movement. Across her waist, hanging at her right, a blade and staff made of an ink-black-silver metal that clacks with her step. Her hair hangs down over her shoulder, tied in a braid that must have taken an hour to make at least to knot. I look now to see her hair, which I had failed to observe at the night's behest for sleep: silver as the moon and flowing as a river that cascades down her chest. Her body, as I watch her, is voluminous in breast and rear but is toned across the rest of her. Her Violet eyes stare at me with a strange expression.
Maid Alice and Janet stand, rising quickly to greet her, "Your Imperial and Royal Highness!" The two speak in unison; Janet stands as she holds me; Maid Alice, however, kneels low on the ground. Strange. I suppose it is a custom of this world rather than a curtsy or bow. As I ponder, I realize how little stock I've given to my observation of people. In the past, I may have recoiled at even the study of a lady in any state of undress; my current state -holding no reservations- gives me pause and concern, though I cannot say the lack of shame is of no benefit. I shudder as I propose the other option of how my shame was put down as a dog yet ill; I will never dare curse a nurse for her work again.
As I ponder, Mother picks me up. Last night, she seemed so warm, and her soul envelops me as it did last, yet she seems apprehensive. I could understand if she knew what my power was. I cannot even control it as of now, so her scars, hidden under her clothes, were open to me. I shudder to think what I may have seen without the blessing of this house. The idea of a m̶̦͖͇͙͑͊a̵͙͖̎̅̚n̷̛͖͖̯͓̓͋,̶̢̀̓ ̷̥̱̝͇̌̕m̵͈̱͚̉͒a̸̘͍̯̅̓̈́l̷͇̪̘̤̈̃e̷͂͜͝, touching me makes my skin crawl. I pause, the feeling moving up my arm; I shake my head. It won't happen, not again. I won't let it happen.
As I fell into a stupor, Mother brushed my hair with a slow, calm, and soft hand. It pulled me free from my daze; The torrent of fear pulled away like a wet blanket. Refreshing was the warmth of Mother's hand as she caressed me. I turned my head to her, letting my eyes rest on her face. She had a soft expression, weary but still. As if cut from marble, she brought me close and gave me a coo. "Hello, my child, it has been too long."
As she speaks, I hear pain in her voice; calloused hands that tighten around me in a hug tell me enough. I give her a soft smile, an action I've restrained myself from doing since I woke. As she moves me away, she smiles, "Too long." She muses. She turns to look at the two maids, Janet having kneeled after she gave me to Mother. "Maid Alice, Maid Janet." Maid Alice yelps, and Janet nods, aloof when not alone, "Do..." Mother pauses, "Do you know what a good gift for a child is?" Mother's honey-dew voice lies in the room as both maids look at one another.
Janet is the first to speak as a smile of amused understanding plays across her lips, "Your Imperial, Royal Highness, if I may?" She motions to herself, Mother nods, "Go on." Janet slowly stands, "If you wish to provide something to the Young Lady, I suggest an item for her to grasp. She seems to enjoy hugging tight a bear you provided some time ago." Janet offers with some hesitance. Maid Alice stands up and says, emboldened by Janet, "Yeah! She'll love it, and maybe give her some pretty clothes to dress it up in!" Mother nods at the two, Janet glaring at Maid Alice, who grins in reply. I shake my head and attempt to speak up, "Ah ah, mwoada." Mother stares at me in surprise; she smirks, "Yes, my child?" Doubt that she will understand, but I try my best to tell her what I wish, as I already have the bear Janet speaks of and need nothing else, "Boo! Eh bwa boo," I cringe at the cooing. The language is strange: it takes more of my tongue to control the syllables; even as I understand it with this connection, my lack of practice makes it a vile mockery. I try again, my face still static as I attempt to form the words, "Boo wabnth." I pout as the syllables struggle to flow from my tongue. I huff and lower my eyes, tears forming against my will.
Mother smiles, pressing her finger into my belly, "I will, my love." I stare at her, wondering if she understood me. If she could tell my intention, "Me to be with you more, yes?" I stare at her, struck dumb. Though that is not bad, I cannot say it is what I meant. I ponder the question, but she takes my pause as an affirmation, "Don't worry then. I shall ensure we spend as much time as we can together." I'd chuckle if not for fear of shocking them: My real wish is for her to give what she wants, but if this is what she wants? Who am I to decline her? I sigh and nod, resigning myself to her care. Not that I mind.
As the excitement fell away, I sighed. I looked around through Mother's eyes and smiled a wistful smile. I couldn't place the words, but it felt out of place. My body still felt -I still felt- like I didn't belong, like I was stealing something from someone. I sensed I didn't deserve this courtesy of a loving life, as if someone could steal it away in a moment. Even now, I feel the touch of gold and silk across my skin; my body, though slow in strength, appears far from ugly; my servants hold no contempt and even seem to appraise me in high regard. If anything of Mother's body is to go by, I will not suffer a fate of ill health. How could I deserve this? I didn't earn it, and my past was far from filled with the white of purity; it held deep the stains of sin. Unreliable sin that stains me even now.
Even though I am stained, is it even okay? I suppose I would get such a life no matter the way, was it right? To choose to remember? She, the God of Souls, spoke only of balance. Even now, the gods who touch me speak of balance, minor repairs to an uneven scale, they say. Is it fair to accept such blessings? I, who knows what work it takes to reach great heights and the hubris that leads to the lowest lows? Hah, the silence calls such things to me again. How long must I ponder such hypocrisy? The hypocrisy of my existence. I hear the dulled voices of others; it seems my malaise has caused concern.
I shake from my stupor, "She is just feeling unwell, your Imperial and Royal Highness," Janet says. She covers for my contemplative haze, which I am ever grateful for. "Are you sure?" Mother's tone slices through the fading mist like a blade through butter, "my child, is this true?" I am somewhat confused, as I am still only three months old before remembering my prior acts. My actions are far from any normal three-month-old. I nod quickly, better to be honest right now. I will have to figure out my nature as I grow, however. Prodigious status, or being a fool, can be good in some cases. Though one must chuck the yoke of one face to play the other, it will only be a matter till I must choose, and with my nature as of now, that gate narrows daily.
Janet sees my pensive stare and can tell I'm wandering off more, and she politely informs the others. "Your Imperial and Royal Highness, may I ask that the Young Lady gets some rest? Maybe after both of you can take a walk; I hear the garden looks especially charming in the winter." I hear the nudging in her tone, and I smile at how Janet honeys her words. "I shall consider it." Mother takes charge, pausing as she thinks for a moment before saying, "She will be taking a nap, yes?" Janet nods, "That she will. Would the Imperial Royal Highness like to watch the Young Lady?" Mother shakes her head, her apprehensiveness I can feel as she shakes a bit, "No, no, I'd like to just prepare for the walk... Finish some documents, as it were. Thank you for the offer, Maid Janet." Mother gives a short smile before looking at me in her arms, "Hm... Well, Alexia, I shall see you in a short time. Sleep well, my child." I nod in reply.
As I lay in my crib, I let the swiftness of the day fall into a lull. Janet took her place in the room; her chair sat facing the window in the back corner, my crib close to her but far enough so I could rest easy. Taking in the day, I find my thoughts wander to the worst thing, my blessing.
This: I cannot say curse, but this thing is dangerous. I must realize this quickly and learn to control it just as such. As with the case of Mother, I can see below and around anyone who touches me; this connection doesn't have to be there, but seeing them becomes smoother with it existing. What is worse is that seeing them like that -My skin crawls with the thought- they have no say. I cringe at the idea, the presumption that I am allowed such dangerous power because I was gifted it. To wield it flippantly would be even more appalling. I sigh, resting my hand across my head even as it has no change to my vision. Nothing impedes my vision; how vexing, once known for my thoughtful practices, am now cornered by my ability.
I sigh as I move away from the old and to a new matter; even now, though, I cannot say if this is good or bad. Though it may come at the cost of my vision, should I not consider this boon a bane? And to try and rid myself of it? I groan. I let time tick before considering my next issue, Mother's and my Maids': flippant and blatant disregard for the dead men's blood. Almost like a bug crushed on a desk, insignificant, more of an inconvenient stain to wipe away. While I cannot say I am not relieved and feel the same, it does give me pause as to who my maids and Mother are. Why did my Mother and Father enter when possible assailants entered our home? What caused all the scars on Mother's body? Why was she gone for the past three months?
I shake my head, my mind suffering once more. This world -the world of magic and mystery- checks my ambling mind. Those around me, my perversions. My body, my desires. Three months is long, yet so short of a time to comfort oneself in a new place, yet I feel at peace against my better judgment. Even a day after acquiring my new vision, it feels like my own, as if I've held it all my life. I cannot say if this is due to my time as a soul, in a void where time is a jest and space a memory, or because of the intervention of the gods. Worse, I ponder, is it I found my world unfitting? Is this balance righting a wrong with me, or just a gift I take for granted?
As my wanders, I rest for a time, letting my thoughts meander as I wait for Mother to return.