I began my life in a tavern in Cape Rain. Born in the stock cellar without a midwife, to my knowledge. My mother had found work there, and was always fond of telling me how lucky we were to have found such a home.
When I was five, she married the tavern owner - his name was Ted. Together, they had my sister, Isabella.
Time in the Tavern was a hard slog and money was tight, always put back into the business to keep it going. There was no time for childhood play. We weren't allowed to leave the grounds, which restricted us to the barn and animal pen, the small field, and the courtyard.
My sister Isabella was doted upon, and I felt alone amongst my family. My mother would always laugh though, and tell me that I was her "little Angel" a perfect sparkle to her eyes when she said it. She would run her hands along my blonde hair, and admire it against her own dark hair. How little I knew then about how true her words really were.
Isabella and I never really got along. She was arrogant and selfish, she craved attention and soon found it amongst the regulars. Little Isabella jumped on tables and danced, making patrons laugh with mirth, some even slapping their thighs in delight and causing the wooden floorboards to rattle and groan.
I, on the other hand, hid within the shadows. I never wanted to be noticed - not like that. I was still "Little Angel" as I grew older, my sister constantly liked to tease me with the name especially long after she'd lost her virginity to a local stable handler.
Ted died suddenly, we think it was a heartattack. My mother found him face down and dead in the cellar. It was a blow to us all. I was dismayed at his death, but I can't say I ever really missed him. He was there, but he was never a true father. Isabella cried for weeks, but my mother, as strong as ever, pulled up her sleeves and took over the tavern.
When a few more years passed, I suffered one of my hardest blows. I lost my mother. We suspected she was dying the moment she took to her bed - it was such a rarity when she couldn't leave it. I sat endlessly by her side, my hand clutching hers for all it was worth, begging, praying that the gods save her soul. I had no one else, I needed her strength. It wasn't enough. Her life slipped away as my sister was out at a gathering, not caring an ouce for what was happening.
As the Doctor ordered a pine box for her to be carried out to her resting place, my sister refused, and insisted we didn't have the money. Instead, she had our mother wrapped in Linen and old potato sacks. "Just dirt now.." she scoffed, turning her back and marching back into the tavern.
We fought over the Tavern regularly. Isabella wanted money and freedom. She wanted to drink and it became excessive. I found myself being stuck at the tavern, rather resentful. At times, I wished her dead. I couldn't cope with such a big responsibility. With Isabella's absence, she had forced me into the spotlight, and I had to admit that it wasn't so bad. I had become accustomed to the loud, booming chatter of our mostly male customers. Many lacked a wife, and good conversation. I was happy to provide the latter.
Just as I became accustomed to my beautiful tavern, my home, it all came crashing down upon me. As I was closing one night, my sister, now aged eighteen had found a gentleman she wanted to marry. He was a merchant of sorts from Merridia and happened to be very wealthy. I never had the chance to meet him, he always corresponded by letter. Yet, he seemed interested in the building. He wanted to buy my half of the establishment. I refused, I adored it more than anything.
Isabella grew angry with me, she wasn't getting her way. She threatened, and shouted, threw objects and stomped her foot, finally sulking that if I wanted to keep my little tavern then I'd have to buy HER out of the business instead, OR, she said, she'd sell her half to someone else.
The thought of sharing was too much to bare. I couldn't cope with the idea that someone I didn't know might come along and change everything I had worked hard to achieve. Yet I was caught in a dilema, I didn't have the money to buy her out.
Then, along came a man with a solution. His name? Vladamir Carthallion.
[[To Be Continued]]
2010-02-03, 19:47