Family Note Book

[Royal Blood]

In desperation to spill out my mind I open the book my husband gave to me. With paper there I grab a quill and begin writing immediately. I sob as I write curled beneath a root of a massive tree in the forest. With the fading sunlight to illuminate my paper, I write all that I feel.

For all the pain my heart can feel.
The greatest pain is to kneel.
To kneel not to one who is worthy.
But to kneel before the unholy.

A heart destroyed and left to die
For a chance at living uncompromised.
But compromise one must justify
If their desire to go home is not a lie.

Duty, duty is the demand
That one must die for their land
To bare all pain, all regret, all sorrow.
So others may go home tomorrow.

It is an oath you took when you led
The price of ruling has broken your head.
Blood runs down and breaks your mind
You thought that they would be more kind.

Who will speak on your behalf?
Or have they all gone and lost their breath?
You cry in pain and writhe in shame
But they will not see, it is all in vain.

Still you linger ready to break
For a chance to dismiss the bellyache
The aching of your heart and mind
Being kept from your home this time.

On your back the lashes you’ll take
To not be kept from your fate
Broken legs, broken mind, broken heart
All is lost and you are still kept apart.

They play with your soul like it is a trinket
Devoured by the mouths of those who would drink it.
They do not believe the pain you feel
Even if the tears make you keel.

You would give them everything
If it means a chance for proving one thing.
That you love them like a tidal wave
And would hold them like their mother’s gave.

You didn’t know that it would come to this
Being loved, cursed, then pushed to this.
To die not to your enemies.
But to die at the hands of your family.

Blindsided by betrayal
Cut down and left disabled
Rot they swear! Die you cur!
They have no love for what you were.

Do the gods watch and weep?
For their child they do keep
In their loving arms they hold you.
They will not disown you.

For they have seen the scorn and lies
And they know who denies
The truth that you are not the enemy
You are not the one of vile memories.

It is not you who shed kins blood.
Nor your actions that caused this flash flood
Of hate and division that they claim you reek
To break your back with and make you into a freak.

No, you stood when others would have crumbled
You were not intimidated by the rumble
Of those who were evil and asked you kneel.
You stood and told them you would not heel.

[Royal Blood]

Frantically writing I continue on, my heart moving form sorrow to rage the paper the victim of my fury.

You told me you would save me! From this exile you would free me! But your promises are like the wind! Here one moment then gone, recisended. And I roar with more fury than your heart shall ever know. My anger rivals that of the gods, I am more than sod. For you to step on, for you to push around, put down, keep down and act like i’m not around.

That I am denied this resting place. I’m like a piece of art, admired then brushed aside, to be put inside a place where no one can decide whether or not I should be burned or left alive.

Kill me then if you do not want me! Why do you torture me? Am I not of your country? My death was never enough for you! My life was never a concern to you! Like those whose hearts are twisted with evil you want to see me squirm until I am shriveled.

You have me now. You have me now! Do you hear me? You have me now! You have taken it from me, the thing that I cherish so dearly. You have teased me with it, and kept it just out of my reach! You monster, you heathen, you are a pure horror.

And still you smirk with delight. Your heart has been taken over with a heathen’s delight. You are not one of the seldarine, and you are nothing like a queen.

[Royal Blood]

A letter placed into the family note book for the first born Stormheart, born a few days prior.

One hundred and twenty seven years of memories. But all my memories paled in significance to this one. You were born from my blood, crying as it became time for you to breathe the air of this world. I pulled you close against my chest eager to hold you in warmth and shelter you in my love. As your tears ceased and the quiver of your tiny lip ended your eyes turned to look into mine.

My heart melted as we gazed at one another. Still covered in sweat, my heart racing, to look upon you at last validated all the labor. You are the first born of the Stormheart line. On my shoulder rested the hand of your father as we both looked at you in awe and love.

Already in my mind, the mind of a Coronal I thought on the plans I had lain to shelter you and hide you from my enemies. Kindred ever loyal that will hold you when my arms and the arms of your father cannot. The legacy we leave for you is one of fierce loyalty for friends and fierce loyalty returned. Fortunes of treasure have already been gifted to you. Unborn and you are richer in love and wealth than many may ever be.

The world I brought you into is not an easy one but even in my youth I have achieved enough to safeguard your future. Though for all this wealth, all this effort, and all of our friends still there are just as many who would seek to harm us. To harm you. I pray to the Seldarine that whatever grudges are held against your father and I die with us when our time finally comes.

But more earnestly I pray that by the time you read this I am still with you. And that you are graced by the presence of brothers and sisters.

Remember your family name. We chose it because it is both a boon and a curse. May you love with the fury of a storm, and may your wrath be like clouds of thunder. But may you also have a center, an eye to your stormy heart where you safeguard those and that which you love.

Your blood is the blood of a royal. You are noble, but what makes you noble is not our wealth nor prestige but rather your heart. Our crown is the crown of humility. I pray you wear it with pride.

I love you my son.

[Royal Blood]

Do you smell it?
It's the scent of something awful.
That which the wise knows is regretful
But the people think is respectful.

Do you smell it?
It's the scent of something terrible!
But the people make it bearable
Thinking they are being charitable

Do. You. Smell it?!
It's the scent of something evil!
And the people who promote it shrivel
Destined to ramble drivel.

What you smell is fear. And the people have grown used to it. Fear is their master and the god of Bane knows it. Does the Seldarine condone turning your people away? Would you stand there and watch them die? No you say, but it has already happened. But you choose not to think about that! To stand before the ones who died you could bravely say to have courage!

Have courage for what? That all of those with passion and heart shall soon be a exiles? Surely then the great city will be safe, when all are mindless dronea to afraid to speak up and be bold.