Since I finished posting, I've made many changes to the original Part One, including entirely rewriting Chapter One with (mostly) All New Material, changing the timeline a bit, adding new scenes, and a few other surprises. My readers (what are there, two of you?), have been begging me down on their knees, almost in tears :nod: , to post the updated (and IMPROVED!!!) version of Part One, and so...here it is. For now, though, it will only be Part One, because I'm not ready to give you the rest of the story yet...

Slightly tweaked Prologue:



Chapter 1.1--Born in the Realm of Madness

It had rained all morning, but that was no surprise. It rained most days in Dementia, and there was almost always constant cloud cover. The sunshine, then, was a rare gift which I treasured as a young child. Sneaking out of my chambers was too easy in the afternoons, when my governess lay down for a nap, expecting me to do the same. All I needed to do was lie in my bed and feign slumber until I was certain she was no longer conscious. Then I opened my eyes and, with a smile, crept out into the vast palace corridors, eagerly taking the opportunity to slip away in search of adventure.

I was in my sixth year, curious and full of mischief, as are most elves at such a tender age. There wasn’t much to do in the House of Dementia, and even at that age, my father insisted that most of my time be taken up with studying. So, naturally, I found great joy in escaping from my rather tedious and boring duties to use my natural ability to sneak through the shadowed corridors of the palace unseen.

My father’s private garden was only a short distance from my bedchamber, and none of the courtiers were allowed to walk there without my father’s permission, so I could have it almost entirely to myself. Only the royal guards were there at that time of day, while my father was holding court, and with my tiny frame it was easy to go unnoticed by the towering Mazken.

It was always a relief to get out of the lifeless and confining walls of the inner palace and smell the damp, musty air that was always left behind after the rain stopped. The grass and moss were so much softer beneath my feet than the cold, hard stone that was tempered only by a rug here and there. Why anyone would want to live indoors all the time, I couldn’t understand at that age. Being outside, among the trees and the birds and the wide open sky was so much better than being inside, with a roof over my head day and night.

The pale aquamarine glow of the withering moon plants always amazed me, and after hiding myself safely within the bushes and trees, I admired the way the light reflected off the rocks and leaves. But then I continued on, carefully climbing into the weeping willow tree that graced the garden with its sorrowful beauty. I enjoyed sneaking around in the garden, with my father’s guards completely unaware of my presence—I felt courageous and cunning when I was able to fool the hawk-eyed female warriors known as the Dark Seducers.

With a smile on my lips, I climbed across until I was near the door that led to my father’s private quarters, and then I waited for the patrolling guards to be out of sight before I jumped down and started for the door. But then I stopped dead in my tracks, when I heard, “Halt! You are trespassing in the Duke of Dementia’s private garden!”

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, I slowly turned around to face my captor, fearing reprimand. But when I looked upon her face, I felt immense relief. It was Jansa, the friendlier of the two Dark Seducers that patrolled in the garden. Jansa could easily have squashed me, a tiny little wood elf against a towering Mazken, but instead she smiled.

“You need to work on your sneaking, young mistress,” she said, looking down at me. “Perhaps next time you will be more successful at remaining undetected.”

“How did you see me this time, Jansa? I was wearing green.”

“The green of the trees is a different tone than the green of your dress,” she responded in a simple, matter-of-fact way. “But you did better this time than the last. There has been notable improvement.”

“Next time, I will make it all the way to the door before you catch me,” I said, as she began leading me toward the exit.

“I’m sure you will. But for now you must return to your quarters as the Duke commands, so I can return to my duties.”

“Aww,” I whined, as she opened the door that led back into the corridor from whence I came. But before she could usher me out, I heard the deep, stern voice of my father from behind us.

“Is that my Syl Aranel sneaking around in my garden?” he asked. When I whirled around to see his smiling face and dark but loving eyes, I was elated. He held his arms out to me and I ran to him, giggling as he lifted me up onto his shoulders to take me back into the grassy area. “What are you doing out of your quarters, young lady? Am I mistaken, or are you not supposed to be taking a nap with your governess?”

“I didn’t want to sleep, Ada! There’s too much to do and I wasn’t tired!”

I always called my father ‘Ada’, which is the endearing form of the elven word for father, ‘Adar’. Though most elves in the Realm of Madness were no longer in touch with their native elven tongue, in my family we spoke both Tamriellic and the Bosmeri dialect of the elven language. And so, my father often called me his ‘Syl Aranel’, which means ‘faerie princess’.

“My little Syl, not tired?” he asked, feigning shock. “And I imagine you were not interested in practicing your penmanship, either?”

“No, Ada,” I said with a laugh as he lifted me off his shoulders and set me back on the ground, tickling my waist in the process. Then I explained, “I wanted to play outside today! The sun is out!”

He paused to look up through the open roof, squinting his eyes, and said, “Ah, so it is.”

“Ada, why are you always so busy? I wish you and Mama could play with me all day long!”

With a sigh, my father knelt down before me to look me directly in the face and offered a weary smile. “I know it is hard being away from us so often, Syl, but I am the Duke of Dementia. It is my duty to look after the people’s needs. And your mother, as my consort, must be at my side while I am holding court.”

“Where is Mama? Why isn’t she here with you?”

“She is taking tea with Lady Jarol, my steward’s wife,” he replied. “But I am certain that as soon as she is finished, she will want to spend time with you.”

“Can we play outside?” I asked.

“Well, I would imagine that if you ask your mother, she will gladly play outside with you,” he said. But then we were interrupted when my father’s steward, a nobleman of Imperial ancestry, approached with a message for my father.

“My Lord,” said the steward with a bow, “forgive me for interrupting.”

“’Tis no matter, Lucian,” my father replied. “I trust you have good reason for coming to me now, when I have just begun taking my break from holding court?”

“Indeed, I have news that I believe will be most pleasing to Your Lordship, concerning the insurrection.”

“Is that so?” my father asked. Then he turned to me, and said, “Syl, I have some very important business to which I must attend. You may stay here and play for a little while under the supervision of my Seducers, but then you must return to your studies until you mother comes to see you.”

“Yes, Ada,” I replied, hanging my head in disappointment. Then I watched him and Lord Jarol walk away together, exiting through the side door, which is the same one through which I had entered. My father rarely left that way, which struck me as somewhat odd. But very quickly I forgot about it, and instead I began playing.

Jansa and the other guard continued their patrols, and while I avoided the other one, I decided it would be fun to follow closely behind Jansa as she made her rounds. She very quickly noticed me walking behind her and mimicking her movements, but she pretended not to notice me at first, allowing me to have my fun. I could tell she was watching me, though, out of the corner of her eye, and I thought it was all very amusing.

When she did finally stop, she looked down at me, and asked, “Are you trying to be Mazken, child?”

“What’s Mazken, Jansa?”

“It is my kind,” she replied. “Just as you are Bosmer, I am Mazken.”

“But I thought you were Dark Seducers?”

Jansa chuckled, and patiently said, “We are Mazken, but our rivals the Aureals gave us the name Dark Seducer. That is why many refer to us as such, but that is not what we call ourselves.”

“The Aureals?”

“The Aureals are the Golden Saints,” she replied. “They are the ones who serve Mania, just as we Mazken serve Dementia.”

“Oh,” I said thoughtfully. “So…it’s just like how I am a Bosmer in the elven language, but in Tamriellic I am called a wood elf?”

“That is correct,” Jansa replied with a nod. “You have a remarkably quick mind, for a mortal child. An admirable quality.”

She was about to continue her patrols, when I began following her again, and said, “I like you, Jansa. When I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

“But you are not Mazken,” she replied. Then she stopped, seeming to rethink her response, and said, “You can try, if you’d like. But I must continue my rounds. Please stay out of trouble, young mistress.”

She began walking again, and I still continued to follow, this time examining her curiously. After we had rounded the corner, I suddenly asked, “Why is your skin purple?”

Jansa smiled slightly, and responded, “Why is your skin peach?”

I had never really thought about it before, and I looked down at the skin on my hands. After pondering the subject for awhile, I finally lost interest, finding it to be of little importance, and I decided to ask her a different question. “What is that?”

She stopped and looked down in the direction I was pointing, and then she said, “This is a mace. It is a weapon that I keep to protect myself and defend your father, the Duke.”

“What does it do?”

“It does what I make it do,” she replied simply. “If I want it to break a man’s bones, then that’s what I will make it do.”

I stopped and gasped, asking, “Why would you want to break someone’s bones?”

“To keep them from killing the Duke.”

“You mean Ada!?”

“Yes.”

“Why would someone want to kill Ada!?” I asked in horror.

“I wouldn’t know. I am not able to discern what is in their minds when they decide to turn against the Duke.”

“What is…discern?”

“You ask too many questions,” she said finally. I could tell she was slightly annoyed, though I think she was trying to be patient with me. “Shouldn’t you be returning to your chambers now? You ought to obey the Duke.”

“He said I could play for a little while.”

“And a little while has now passed,” she replied. “I think it is time for you to go back inside the palace and return to your studies, as your father commanded, young mistress.”

I sighed in disappointment, but I could tell she was losing her patience, so I decided to obey. Without saying a word, I turned around and headed back—the long way—to return to my quarters.

Once inside the palace, I began walking the short distance back to my chamber, when I suddenly became distracted again. It was my keen sense of hearing which alerted me to the agonizing cries rising up from the dungeon—a grim and forbidding place which, up until that day, I had never seen. Alarmed but ever-curious, I could not resist sneaking down to the lower part of the palace, ducking in the shadows when I heard one of the Dark Seducers on patrol nearby. When she had passed, I continued down the stairs with caution, and peered through the partially open door of my father’s torture chamber.

Seeing the man in chains, screaming and crying and begging for mercy as my father did unspeakable things to him, I gasped quietly and stood there to continue watching, riveted by the horrifying scene. Never had I seen so much blood… Never had I witnessed such a cruel fate as that man’s… And never had I known that my beloved Ada was capable of doing such terrible things.

It was only when I felt someone grab my tiny shoulder and pull at me that I finally managed to turn away from that scene. I let out a terrified scream, but was hushed quickly by Muurine, my Altmer governess.
“Shh…Hush, child,” she whispered. “You are not supposed to be here. Come—return to your chamber at once.”

Muurine towered over me, being high elf, and when I was a girl she had long dark hair that was almost black. She was beautiful and somewhat mysterious, but she treated me very warmly most of the time, and she was unbelievably patient with me though I was a difficult child to raise.

I was in tears when we returned to my chamber, asking, “Muurine, why was Ada hurting that poor man?”

“That ‘poor man’ is one of your father’s enemies, Syl. If your father wasn’t hurting him, he would have hurt your father. But that is the end of the discussion. You were supposed to be napping, not sneaking around in the corridors—do you have any idea how dangerous it can be for you to be wandering around without a chaperone, Syl? You must not disobey your father’s orders—he has legitimate reasons for making the rules as he does, and rules are meant to be followed. Now, to your studies….”

Though I continued to protest, Muurine brought me to the writing desk and made me sit down, where I had to spend the next half hour practicing my penmanship, and trying to forget the awful scene I had just witnessed.

My father was a subject of great confusion for me growing up. He was the most powerful mortal in the Isles, aside from his counterpart, the Duke of Mania, and most of the people in Dementia feared him. Though I had often seen my father’s dark side as a child, with me he was kind and loving, only hard when he needed to be, and never cruel. I adored my father—he was my hero; so, it may come as a surprise to some that I ever became Duchess of Dementia at all—for, the way to the throne was not my birthright, nor my heritage. It was a position given to those who had earned the Madgod’s favor, and anyone was eligible to take control of one of the ruling Houses. How I came to sit on the throne I’ll not go into now, but I will say this much—I did not inherit the throne from my father, as that never happens in Dementia. There is a lot more involved than that, and it is always very bloody.

ALMOST IN TEARS? Dude, I was dying!

*gasp* SHE IS RACIST! Racism in Shivering Isles! Haha, okaaaaaaay. A sweet update, Syl. Schmuty likes. Vewy, vewy, much.

Oh, Schmuty... Such a dramatist...

She's not racist, she's six years old! She's just curious, and children at that age are very good at asking questions of that nature. Plus, I thought it would be a good way to show the readers that the Mazken have purple skin.

Also, just so you know, it's only Chapter One that was completely re-written. It became so long that it had to be split into two chapters, of course, and it still ends the same as the original, though. However, as I said, I have been adding a lot of scenes to other chapters, sort of re-working them to make them better than the original. Fleshing them out more...

And since I changed the timeline, making Syl 37 during the Greymarch, instead of 63 as in the original, there will be a new character showing up in Syl's childhood--someone who originally didn't come in until much later in the story.