Artemiss

[bumbleebumblebee]

"Freedom...peace? Only to be experienced, through...death?"

---

...since you shared your story, it'd be unfair if I didn't share mine.

Ever since I can remember, I've been mistreated by most, and it took so long for me to understand why. Why my parents forced me to hide when we had guests over. Why I was seldom allowed to go outside. Why I was forced to obscure my face, made to keep my head covered, during the few times I was allowed to see sunlight as a child...

I was probably eight, or nine, when I overhead the servants whispering. Murmuring about the "accursed child", the "abomination", the "taint upon the bloodline." The creature they described terrified me, as they spoke of the scorn my family would receive for allowing "that thing" to exist. They called my mother a fool for not aborting it, and blamed my father for it's creation. When they mentioned the abnormal growth upon "it's" head, I grasped my horns and realized...

That the beast they thought so poorly of, was me.

I hid from my father that day. As, he oft entered my chambers in the evenings. He'd bring me the few things that brought me comfort, during the isolation. Instruments that he'd teach me to play, but only when mother was away from the manor. Paints of all hues, fine brushes that I wish were still in my possession.

But, this day, he spent the entire evening consoling me. In a lapse of judgment, he stayed within my chambers for too long, the paints, brushes, and papers he'd intended to gift me lie scattered upon the floors. So, when mother arrived, to see him coddling their abomination of a child, I finally understood why it was that I could only paint at certain times. Why I could only play music, at certain times. Why I spent most of my life, alone.

This woman was evil, I thought.

She beat him, black and blue, right before my eyes. She berated him for coddling me. Reminded him, that I was only allowed to live, so long as he kept my existence a secret. Scorned him, for wasting coin on me, blamed him for my birth defect. I was supposed to be a noble of Aen, aid to the princess, but how could they insult the Queen by offering her daughter a beast?

Things changed that day.

Father stopped bringing his gifts. His visits were rare. The only comforts I had, were the few brushes, and inks, that mother's servants didn't find when searching and cleansing my room of waste. I started training, that day. One of the trusted servants was tasked with turning me into something useful. For, if I couldn't serve the public, I could become useful for the family in some form, or fashion. They spoke of sending me to the Dorian's, when I was of age, to be trained as a soldier under a different name. Couldn't risk sullying the name of their bloodline.

The next few years were a blur. I'd train from sun up, to sun down, in an isolated part of mothers garden. I hated it. I hated it so much. But, what I think I hated most, was that I'd only have an hour a night, at best, to draw...before exhaustion claimed me, and the cycle repeated. A cycle that wasn't broken, until I met....

You.

But, it's getting late, and the desert gets so terribly cold at night. So, I'll continue this, another time...

---

"I was born cursed, shackled by the duties of my blood, and while it may not have been intentional, you freed me.
Through death I attained liberation, but the death certainly wasn't mine, best friend."

[bumbleebumblebee]

"...but, it wasn't supposed to be yours, either."

---

I suppose you know most of the rest, from this point onward, but I've yet to share just why I travel alongside you, with the others. So, I'll continue...

After a time my supplies ran low, and eventually, I was left without anything to keep me occupied before bed. All I had was my old drawings, old paintings, to keep me company. The few I wasn't forced to destroy, out of fear of my mother or one of the servants finding them. This went on, for months, until my family and their guard were summoned away. I didn't know, and still don't know as for why, as my family didn't keep me informed of such things. But, thanks to the chattering of the servants, I knew that the manor would be mostly empty one weekend.

So, I devised a plan.

Throughout the week, I gathered small things they likely wouldn't notice missing. A few coins, here and there. Silverware, that I could sell at the marketplace, and I look a map of the town from the study. On Friday, they left, and that Friday night, I snuck away from the manor. I remember finding a bench in the marketplace to sit, waiting for the sun to rise, so I could purchase whatever drawing supplies I could, and sneak back into my chambers. I had everything planned out, everything except for meeting you.

---

"..."

"...m-my name? It's...Artemiss."

"..."

"...oh, that's a pretty name."

"..."

"O-oh, I'm just here to get some paint."

"..."

"My parents? Probably asleep."

"..."

"It's late, but I'm not alone, see?"

"..."

"You..like it? The only other person who liked my drawings is father- h-hey, don't touch my hood--"

"..."

"...yeah, horns. Antlers. Mutations. Don't tell anyone, I'll get into a lot of trouble, and so will my family, if they find out about 'the freak'."

"..."

"No, I am. It's okay."

"..."

"Lonely? I guess, but you get used to it- hey, wait, give that back!"

"..."

"Mister bird! He's alive, how did you-"

"..."

"W-wait. I can do that, too? How? S-show me..."

---

The next two mornings I snuck out, to meet you upon the same bench. It felt liberating to speak with someone, to tell them about my passions, about anything, really. I enjoyed those early mornings, showing you the few pictures I'd managed to keep hidden. I enjoyed being able to talk with one, who didn't care about my mutations, and above all else...

I enjoyed learning how to make those imaginary friends, real. I enjoyed making a real  friend. It was the first time I can remember being happy, since father stopped visiting. I remember how sad I felt, saying goodbye for what I thought would be the last time. But, I'm glad I saw you again. Even if the reason, for why, will likely forever haunt me.

...for I'd devised a plan, for when my family returned. I was going to show them the gift you'd given me. Convince them, that I wasn't an abomination. Show them, that I was special and different, but not a monster. I could use my passions, my talents, for the family, I could finally meet that princess, and help her. I didn't have to train for battle, to fight in wars I knew nothing of, for people I'd never met, for a family who'd rejected me.

I wanted to believe you, believe that I wasn't a freak, and while I was too weak to stand up for myself. I could easily do this, with the support of my friends.

But, it looks like we've visitors headed our way. I'll return to my drawings, and finish this tale another time...

Oh, right, this part you might not have known! Or maybe you did, and didn't care-- I lied to you, once. Artemiss wasn't my name, at the time. But, I buried that old name alongside the rest of them.

---

"I've long since absolved myself of guilt for it, now. It's ironic, though. In your pursuit to save that monster, all those worries and fears came to life. I became the stain upon that oh so very special bloodline. Imagine what would've happened, if a single one of you did what he did: treated me like a human.

But, it's too late for hypotheticals now, isn't it?"

[bumbleebumblebee]

My family returned home after their trip, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a spark of hope. I wanted to show them who I could be, to prove I wasn’t just the girl hidden away like a secret shame. I set up my easel in the grand hall, surrounded by the heavy silence that usually pressed down on me. I poured my heart into painting a bird, its colors vibrant and alive, a reflection of my yearning for freedom.

I thought maybe, just maybe, they would see the beauty in it and in me. I thought, maybe, she wouldn't see the inks my father gifted as wastes of coin. I thought, maybe, she wouldn't see my hobby, my escapism, and my passion, as a waste of time.

The moment she walked in, she formed the familiar sneer when her gaze fell upon me. My father rushed to my side, with confusion etched into his features. I looked at them both and smiled, and with a flick of the wrist I finished my first masterpiece.

The bird peeled itself away from the canvas, exhaling a loud caw the moment it was liberated. The bird took flight, soaring above me, wings fluttering with life. I was breathless with joy, imagining my mother’s face lighting up with wonder. More than eager to show them more of my new gifts, more than willing to bring anything but shame, and escape my cursed fate.

What a fool I was.

In an instant, she lunged at the bird with a candlestick, calling it a creation of her “abominable child.” I was frozen, torn between wanting to protect my art and the crushing realization that, to her, I would always be a monster. I called out, tried to explain, but my words were drowned in her rage.

As the bird vanished, leaving only a shimmer in the air, I felt like a piece of myself was lost. Standing there, exposed and vulnerable, I realized how deeply I craved acceptance from her, and how much I cared for my art. 

But I also understood something else: I could never change her mind.

"Lock her away, we'll be sending her to the barracks under a different name."
"No."

Even now I'm unsure if it was said out of disbelief for the death of my creation, or outright disobedience. But, what I do know is how I felt in the moment. It was the first time, in my entire life, that I'd felt anger. All the beatings, the way she treated my father, the isolation. I didn't like it, but it was normal, for me. It was what I deserved for being a blight on the family name, so I'd been lead to believe. Yet, this anger, it was such a nasty emotion, that made me feel sick for even feeling it. It was raw and overwhelming.

When she came towards me with that same candlestick in hand, there were no thoughts behind my next actions, and it all happened in a blur.

A beam of light from my palm, my father jumping in the way, his life vanishing to protect hers. His final act, a pointless one, as her corpse lie atop hers soon after. 

...I'm assuming you know why I was panicked, and shaken, when I found you later that day.

Just as I'm assuming why you know good and damn well our journey together does not end in this desert.

[bumbleebumblebee]

You won't be coming, will you? I don't know what happened, but I felt it-- the mana within the feather you gave me, fading into nothing. 

A tether cut.

Your presence lost.

So much has happened since the other artists and I arrived in Meranthe. We've made friends, earned a few enemies. We've learned of the land, its people, its culture. We got stronger. We discovered a trace of her presence. We did everything we were supposed to do.

Yet, you never came.

I was even arrested once, a funny story, one I'd meant to tell you.

Cordelia has found someone. Someone far better than the man who created her. I'm happy for her. Truly.

We watched a goddess die.

It was mesmerizing, beautiful in its terror. A spectacle of divinity unraveling before us. I heard her last song, a song that inspired, a song I wanted to sing for you. Varrach, her slayer, he was one of the first I painted, here. I wanted to show you that, show you, how much I'd improved.

But, it seems these songs won't be reaching your ears after all.

The last of mine, and Cordy's work, that'll ever greet your eyes, are the crude creations left in your possession.

Things weren’t supposed to be this way.

But, I'll endure.

For, if you were taken, we will save you.

If you abandoned us, I hope we never find you.