Liana appeared on a dark night in the middle of the summer. She swept in like an angel, plucked the finest flower from the garden, then disappeared back into the shadows. With bloodstained hands, she traded death for life.
But, even in the hope of life, Liana never left behind the thrill of death. She dedicated herself to politics so dastardly that even a meddling nobleman would become squeamish; she slapped Fate and stole its power; she gambled with humanity and won; she stole a child from both Mother and Heaven, a mere babe delivered to her from the grime of the slums.
Rose.
Before she was even born, Rose was a harbinger of chaos. An unanticipated child, she left her parents in a state of war. Though he wasn't the one creating life within his own stomach, her father was frustrated. One day, he disappeared, dooming pregnant mother and unborn child to starve.
But why had he left, and where had he gone? Had he been unwilling to commit to family? Did he bear a fear of balancing the extra finances? He should know that money isn't the most important thing!
If only he would return, Tamar thought fretfully, a hand upon her stomach. Her pregnancy was hardly apparent, only the smallest of bumps promising her a future son or daughter. If her love returned, she would tell him that money didn't matter, not as long as they were together.
Only, she was wrong; out of everything, money matters the most. It is a cold dictator, determining joy and sorrow, acceptance and rejection. In a world such as this, no one acted unless prompted to by the gold in their hearts and the greed in their eyes. So, whether due to money or another equally as cruel overlord, Tamar's love never came back, leaving behind naught but mystery and misery to fill his empty spot in the empty house.
Months after his disappearance, and Tamar still continued to wait, gazing outside the window, hoping that her child's father would return. By this point, however, she found herself longing for those pouches of gold almost as much as a river of apology and explanation. With the skin on her hands dry and cracking from toiling over other people's laundry, Tamar knew that it was only a matter of time before she would be unable to procure the money needed for rent, let alone sustenance. Confusion turned to anger as she toiled, and her hunger for companionship morphed into hunger for food.
It wasn't until the baby was due any day that Tamar began searching for something new. The simple, optimistic days of hoping were behind her; she now yearned for more than peace and forgiveness. She needed something far less attainable by this point -- she needed a full blown miracle. In a kingdom of darkness and broken, soured hearts, good intentions and longing alone were no longer sufficient. They had never been; Tamar had simply been thinking wishfully, a dreamer turned a fool.
Where was the good man she had loved? And why had he never returned?
After months of existing under the accumulating weight from the hand of Despair, all of Tamar's faithful patience was finally rewarded. Where Life had once turned its nose up at her, it now extended a grand ultimatum. Though it wasn't the lover's treaty for which Tamar craved, it was still a solution. An unexpectedly foreboding solution, but a solution nonetheless.
In a word, it was a deceptive miracle.
A knock sounded at the door, a gentle rap which broke the resting silence. In sharp contrast with the stillness of the night, it rang through the air like the call of war drums, the most foreboding of tunes. At the sound, Tamar sat up, alert and brimming with caution. The sun had long since descended in the sky, deferring its position of reverence to the moon and stars. Just as day yielded to Night cyclically, so should visitors refrain from calling in darkness.
After a few seconds, Tamar relaxed fractionally. Perhaps they had left?
But, no. Patiently persistent, the person at the door knocked again, not to be ignored.
Reluctantly, Tamar stood, and made her way to the door. Of course, the act was easier said than done; her walk was more of a waddle. One of her hands rested upon her bulging stomach while the other pressed into the small of her back, as though it would help her from tearing apart at the seams.
Even in this state, however, she was still trying to keep the sky from toppling down upon her head. To the side of Tamar's chair a basket of dirty clothes and a tub of water sat wistfully, waiting for her to come back and attend to them. Though most women, at this point in her pregnancy, would be in bed and relaxing, Tamar didn't have that luxury. If she didn't work, she didn't eat, so she had no choice but to labor over other people's laundry in hope of making a paltry income.
Grabbing the door handle, Tamar pulled the door open slightly. She peered outside through the sliver of space she left. In a distrustful tone, she skipped normal greetings and morning time pleasantries. "Yes?"
Despite how brusque Tamar was, the stranger was incorrigibly pleasant. "Good evening," the woman said. "Tamar, I presume?"
Tamar's mouth flew open, shocked. "Y-Yes," she stuttered, caught off guard. Her name wasn't a secret; one person knowing it shouldn't bring about pure bafflement. She allowed the door to open a few more inches, letting a bit of light spill out from within the house. Without the glow of the moon or the stars from above, more shadows were cast than were present before, the slight illumination highlighting the sharp angles on the woman's face. "Do I know you?"
Though she was being treated with blatant suspicion, the stranger laughed, a light trilling note. "Oh, no! I simply have a business proposition." She spoke in a soothing tone, as though never having met before was supposed to be reassuring.
Weary as she was, Tamar had no strength to conceal her reactions. Business? She stared at the woman, clearly displaying her bemusement. What kind of business could someone have with a soon to be mother, and why couldn't it be done at a decent hour of the day? All common sense dictated that Tamar should disregard the strange and turn down the shady offer. And yet, desperation and intrigue had quite the compelling argument;Tamar found herself listening rather than walking away.
"May I come in?" Still positive, still patient, the strange visitor gestured past Tamar, an even smile never leaving her face.
Speechless, Tamar merely nodded, pulling the door open fully, as much an invitation to enter as spoken approval.
Words of gratitude on her lips, the woman entered. Making herself right at home, she took a seat at the table, opposite the one Tamar had been sitting in previously. In a flurry of action, she dove right in, getting to the point immediately. "My name's Ana Lee. I have a deal to make with you, if you'd hear me out. One that may help both you and your child immensely."
Though the two of them were still in the same room, Tamar had been left miles behind. She stood there, jaw very nearly dropping to the floor, hand still latched onto the doorknob.
Ana was unlike anyone Tamar had yet had the pleasure of meeting. The woman's clothes were simple, colored with natural hues, and yet were obviously of a more advanced design; everything from her actions to her demeanor radiated a knowledge of power, and she exuded confidence and self assurance; her sharp gaze spoke of intelligence, a type of mental authority which bespoke street smarts and book smarts alike. And yet, despite all that, Ana obviously wasn't from a position of indefinable wealth. For all of her airs and suggested capabilities, she didn't sniff at the tiny excuse for a home she found herself in.
Only someone born and raised in the slums could refrain from raising their nose up at poverty. After a few seconds had passed and Tamar still hadn't snapped out of her reverie, Ana leaned forward in concern. Her short light brown hair, whose tips danced about her ears, fell forward with the motion. It had a slight auburn luster to it in the candlelight, which nicely accentuated eyes as green and sharp as a cactus. They were constantly calculating and discerning, to an unnerving extent. "Tamar? Are you feeling okay?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes." Flustered, Tamar let the door swing shut gently. "Forgive me. Please -- continue." Even though she had appeared to be completely oblivious to what Ana said, that was hardly the case. Tamar had been listening and, past all of the wonder, a spark of hope was already beginning to burn. Even though the flame was there, however, there was a hesitancy to let it grow; the charismatic stranger could yet prove herself to be a dangerous temptress, dealing in danger and irrational expectations.
"Of course." Ana dipped her head, but didn't continue as bidden, not until Tamar had successfully managed to seat herself as well. "So in regards to you. Your fiance walked out on you once he found that you were pregnant, correct?"
Ana spoke with ease, but Tamar stiffened. Whom had she heard that from? Tamar was a rather tight lipped individual; she suspected that such knowledge, thus, wasn't commonly known, nor readily available.
Rather than pressing for sources, however, Tamar merely paused, gathering her thoughts before speaking. "He is--was--more of a lover, to be exact. We had not yet made plans for the future. But close enough, yes."
"And you don't yet have knowledge of the child's gender, nor how they will be cared for once born?" Ana set her elbows on the table, interlaced her fingers, then rested her chin onto the subsequently created cradle.
"Again, correct," Tamar confirmed, a twinge of irritation infecting her tone. "But why is all of this relevant? Does any of these things that you've asked in any way make a difference?"
A curious shadow came upon Ana's expression, one that a person wears when gambling between two possible choices, two separate eventualities. What she was chancing, however, happened to be unclear. "It does. Because, in the end, all of that is hardship. It tempers a person, and shows how far they're willing to go." For the first time since she arrived, the gentle smile left her face. "It shows their desperation."
Behind everything, it seemed as though Ana also nurtured her own desperate hopes. But her words of foreboding created a shield before her, concealing such deep emotions from sight.
Between hidden concealed secrets and her own considerations, Tamar didn't notice that curious oddity in the slightest. Instead, her face became stony, and her eyes were full of violence. "So this isn't a 'business proposition,' then, as you chose to describe it. It's just a chance to bait me into something horrible. Well, no thank you!"
Full of cockiness and poor timing, Ana laughed at Tamar's outrage. "You misunderstand!" She sat back in her chair and waved a hand dismissively, as though she wasn't being glared at by a proud, wrathful tigress. "Nothing like that, I assure you! Let me finish. For, you see, I can tell how vehemently you're willing to fight for your child. Your current state doesn't physically allow you to take such action, unfortunately, but the willingness would overshadow that inability, if only it could.
"But just because you have little choice and opportunity doesn't mean someone else does not." Ana inclined her head fractionally.
Itching for answers, Tamar interrupted, cutting in with distrustful conviction. "There's no way for anyone to help me. Unless you've found a way to bring back my child's father, little you could do will make a difference." She sniffed and pushed her sandy blonde hair over her shoulders. It was at a length long enough to be thrown behind her, but short enough to refuse to stay, obstinately spilling back over her shoulders at every bold movement. "I refuse to be demeaned, and won't accept charity."
"Good, for I'm not offering either of those things." Looking as sly and cool as a predator, Ana tapped a finger on the table. "No tricks or free money. Only the trade of an honest service for an honest price."
For obvious reasons, Tamar was having trouble believing such claims. She sighed, knowing that she could only trust Ana as far as she could throw her -- and, as it was, she could barely even pick herself up, let alone another person. "Get to the point. Then I'll tell you how honest this deal truly is." Little good ever came from promises made in darkness, especially in situations like this, as filled to the brim with hidden intentions as it was.
Though Tamar was attempting to keep herself high minded, it was impossible to conceal every strong willed emotion. Skilled at reading people, Ana was swift to recognize Tamar's true interest. Lips twitching into a small smile, Ana tilted up her head minutely. "I want to give your child a chance at a better life. She'll be living in a safer location, growing up without desperation, and getting an education."
That last part was sort of a trump card, and Ana knew it. Getting a true education in the slums was a challenge; many parents yearned to send their beloved children to school, but money was always a factor which made that dream a near impossibility. Even for those who could shuffle finances about enough found that the tight monetary stretches to be rather pointless -- a good education system in a poor location was a true redundancy. To put it lightly, the education in the slums was far from sufficient. But, at least children could learn a little by attending, often more than their parents could ever teach them. Not enough to get too far ahead, granted, but it was something.
To have someone show up and offer to provide an education for a child -- one that wasn't even hers, and as a stranger, nonetheless! -- was unprecedented. In a world where knowledge is the path towards life, one would truly have to be insane to reject such a monumental offer.
And yet, even as Tamar's heart was fluttering inside her chest and her mind spinning in wonder behind her skull, something just didn't add up. No matter how appealing the offer, a part of her hesitated. For a second, Tamar wasn't sure why she remained cold and unwavering. No matter what Ana wanted in return, wouldn't it be worth a bright future for her child?
But then a word stood out above all of the others, a single word which could easily have not been a slip of the tongue. "You said 'she,' " Tamar said abruptly, speaking forcefully. "Even though there's no way that you could yet know my child's gender." Despite how boldly she spoke, she had to refrain from succumbing to a dark uncertainty encroaching upon her heart.
Even Ana seemed put off, her feathers becoming ruffled for the first time since she entered the house. She blinked once, honestly unaware that she had slipped up. "Ah, well, you see. That's a little 'catch,' as you so love to concern yourself with. Our deal will only hold if you give birth to a girl."
"What?"
"And I'll be taking her with me, as the other half of our agreement. You won't be able to see her, but you will be able to rest assured. Her safety and wellbeing is of the utmost importance to me. I will treat her as my own -- upon that, I swear my life."
Whether intentional or not, Ana momentarily lapsed into a present way of speaking, as though the child was already a girl, and already in her possession. That slip up, the second one of the night, certainly wasn't lost upon Tamar. "Do you even understand what you're saying right now?" she exploded, looking as though she might spring from her chair. "You're using a human life as a bargaining tool!"
The rage washed right over Ana's head, leaving her unperturbed by the outburst. "I'm doing no such thing. I'm providing two people an opportunity at life. Not only will your girl be able to forge herself a better life, but I'll also leave you some money, so that you can pay for your expenses until you're capable of working once more. If I was bargaining with a life, then would I be so concerned over saving two of them?"
Life. It was the battle cry found in the core of every sane human, a force which brought strength to bones and endurance to souls. Even those who did not fear death fought valiantly to cling to the ground which their feet had been planted upon since birth. Because of that primal longing, Tamar found herself taking pause. Normally, she would never even give a single thought to such an offer, but things were far from typical. If she gave birth to a child and attempted to raise it alone, then she may as well prepare ahead of time for impending doom. But this . . . this could well be the only thing protecting mother and child from visiting the afterlife prematurely.
So, even as every single voice within her head screamed at her to stop, Tamar took in a deep breath and blocked out reason. "I won't ever be able to see her, then?"
Ana shook her head. "But she'll be alive. Even more than that, she'll be thriving."
Though Tamar's breathing was shaky, her mind was running far more smoothly. "But I'll never be able to see her?"
"Need I repeat myself?" Ana's lips were pressed into a straight line, her deep well of patience seeming to have run dry. Her words were devoid of the grace and kindness her voice had once held. "I understand getting hung up on having to be separated -- it's a miserable prospect, never being able to see your daughter -- but would you prefer to die?"
Tamar quailed in response to Ana's unexpected passion. After having spoken so neatly and nicely up until this moment, these uncushioned verbal blows were ruthless. And yet, Ana wasn't done speaking yet. In fact, it seemed as though she had only just begun. "Would you rather you both die meaningless deaths? Would you like to keep your child -- keep her out of love, yes, but also selfishness -- and watch her die in your arms? If so, you might as well pull a knife across her throat yourself, and spare her from having to face starvation and prolonged suffering. And all because you were too busy considering your own current emotions over a future full of possibilities."
It was putting it mildly to say that Tamar was angry. No; she was spilling over with rage, chest bursting with a dragon's fury. "There you go, using feminine pronouns!" she spat, raising her voice to match Ana's volume. "Would you stop making assumptions?"
"And would you stop switching off that brain of yours?" Ana retorted, narrowing her eyes at Tamar. Then, more cooly: "I know that it works, so stop and consider a few things. What do you think will happen if you have anything other than a girl?"
That stopped Tamar in her tracks. Clearly, she hadn't considered that eventuality yet. The heated moment which had caused so much tension a mere second before suddenly sizzled out. The candle, which had been dancing frantically, very nearly extinguishing altogether, continued to burn evenly once more, as though aware of the newly reinstated calm. "I don't know," she said tightly, hanging on some of the conflict even while renouncing some of the crazed mania.
"Don't be daft!" Ana shook her head as though she were talking to a child whom had answered in a very disappointing manner. "The deal wouldn't stand if you gave birth to a son."
"What? So what would I have to do? Simply forget you ever came?"
Though Tamar spoke sarcastically, Ana simply shrugged. "Essentially. Even if you tried to tell someone about our meeting, nothing about this is readily believable to the normal person, so you'd just be seen as untrustworthy, perhaps even a little crazy." She didn't speak to insult, just to paint a clear picture of a probable eventuality.
Sourly, Tamar leaned back in a resigned manner. "I suppose you didn't even give me your real name, did you?"
In response, all she got was a single raised eyebrow and silence.
It was preposterous, simply unbelievable! Truly, nothing good could come from a stranger appearing at the door in the middle of the night, creating enticements and tricks. And yet, Tamar found herself deeply considering the words Ana -- or whoever the woman was -- had spoken. There was a cloak of anonymity about her, and her intentions were unclear, that much was undeniable; but, at the same time, no matter how harsh and mysterious she might be, she spoke promises of life, something which Tamar had nearly given up on.
Like a balloon, she deflated, and started to lose some of her conviction. Was it actually selfish to want to be with her child? In a more prosperous chapter of life, perhaps not, but considering how heartless her reality was . . . . "She would receive the best of education, then?"
A slow smile grew upon Ana's face, lazy and self satisfied. "The very best. Learning to write simple words will be the least of the curriculum."
"And she would be raised going to The Church?"
"She herself will be like one of the saints," Ana promised.
"If I can't see her . . . will you be able to send me updates?"
Ana, who was already tasting the sweetness of triumph, took pause at that inquiry, lips parted slightly in thoughtful surprise. "You're asking for letters?" she asked in clarification, cocking her head to the side. "About what?"
Tamar's eyes gained a resolute hardness. For someone full of answers and unarguable solutions, Ana seemed to have been caught off guard. Since the immediate response hadn't been no, the soon to be mother was going to make sure that it would become a yes. "Letters, yes. Updates on how she's progressing. What she's learning. How she's growing."
It took a minute for Ana to consider such a request. Perhaps she should have anticipated it; out of everything to become distraught about, Tamar had gone haywire about not having the opportunity to see her potential daughter. Coming up with a solution to the perceived problem was just one of plentiful signs that she had a good head upon her shoulders; without even having received a proper education, Tamar wasn't defenseless in this verbal battle of wits and cunning.
Though undereducated, abandoned, and poor, she wasn't someone to be underestimated.
It took Ana so long to consider the request that Tamar spoke up again, filling the stretching silence. "It wouldn't have to be that frequent," she added, a bit of reckless hope slipping through as she tried to convince Ana. "It wouldn't have to be a weekly thing. Not even a monthly thing!"
"How about yearly?" Ana said, recovering quickly at the sight of an agreement. If this was all Tamar wanted, the typically unwavering female was willing to make an exception. After all, she too was in desperate need of the child, just as Tamar was. Perhaps even to a greater extent than the child's own mother. What was the hurt of a few letters? Give it a few years, and the annual letters would start to come later and later, and could perhaps eventually even dwindle out. Ana was a big girl; she could deal with a few begrudged notes. "But nothing more than that."
Foolishly, Tamar had been yearning after more. But waiting a year for a letter about a living daughter was more gratifying than having no knowledge about a deceased daughter.
No words were spoken, but it was obvious that Tamar was wavering. Nearly all cards were all displayed on the table; all that was left to be done was announce her final move.
Rather than waiting for either confirmation or rejection, however, Ana took Tamar's silence as answer enough. If she was going to wait for enough pride to be swallowed to admit defeat, they'd be sitting here till morning. Instead, she hummed, then stood. "I'll be back in a few days or so. If you are in favor of life, I would advise you start praying for a daughter."
Was she so clearly full of desperation? Had it been so easy to see her response upon her face? Deep misery washed over Tamar like a heat wave, and her face fell. But she didn't fight, for deep down, she knew as well as Ana that an unspoken decision had been made.
Not like she had ever truly had a choice in the first place; no matter how offended she might be, Tamar would never take the chance of condemning her only child. Tamar's troubled, cracking heart would never allow it.
And so Ana swept back into the night, nothing left for her to do now but bide her time until the day of reckoning. Tamar also waited, wondering if she would be strong enough to say goodbye when the time came. For no matter what gender her baby turned out to be, she would have to prepare her parting sentiments; their time together would be short, regardless.
The door was opened wide -- an entrance is difficult to gain in the slums, but farewells are readily given. "Until we meet again, Ana Lee," Tamar murmured, watching the receding figure walk away from her door.
Out in the still darkness, her softly spoken words drifted to Ana's ears. "You're astute, but apparently not one for word games," Ana sighed to herself. "Your entire world can turn around, but yet you never thought to switch about a few syllables. Ana Lee? What a joke."
As it turned out, Rose fit quite nicely into Liana's arms.
A/N: Hooray! You made it to the end of the prologue! The best part is probably the beginning, since the first couple of paragraphs took me an hour to make :p If you thought this chapter was a little long, don't worry; this one's over 4,000 words, the others tend to linger around 3,000.
If you enjoyed, please vote and comment! I love hearing feedback :)