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“So what if I was?” you answered, “So what if I was some princess, or the daughter of somebody worth a shit? That wouldn’t change a thing about how my life went. It wouldn’t change that you dropped out of it.” And that Hell came into it- and did a hundred, a thousand times more than any person that had made your body did. “I’m not my blood. I’m my battles. I’ve made myself something that doesn’t matter who you are. I’m not sorry if that’s not what y’ want. It’s the truth. If you <span class="mu-i">were</span> somebody more, then I would hate your rotten bones worse, because you had all that, and then threw it all away for Alina and I anyways.” You crossed your arms, and despite how bitter your words were, your temper hadn’t heated at all. “Even then, it wouldn’t matter now. I’m over and past all any delusions like that.”
“Have you truly lost that place in your heart, dear?” Mother said with a small laugh, “You’re right though, I cannot claim to be proud of you because of your blood, but because of all the burdens you’ve borne without me. And if our heritage was anything more than it was, then somebody would have come for it. Anybody could have merely heard a whisper of it. But that doesn’t mean a great heritage can’t be claimed.” In her hand, she opened a palm to you- in it seemed to be a cameo, pale white on deep blue, like a painting of foam on a wave. “Kings don’t have to be the people who were born to be them. A crown can be taken…and so can blood.”
You glanced at the cameo, then to Mother, whose eyes had gone a pale, pale blue. “Don’t screw around with riddles. Talk like a person, not a ghost piece a’ shit.” If you had your choice, you’d be awake now, but something kept you here- so you had little choice but to suffer this.
“Do you know what this is? Power, my dear daughter. If I had anything but my body to wield, what might have become of me? Of us? That is what I can give you,” She reached out and brought a lock of hair to your face- it was brilliant, silvery blonde, like part of Mother’s had become. “Power, dearest. The true kind. Not one of wealth, or society, or anything that disappears the moment a man wants to take whatever he wishes and he has a rod and a strong arm. We can steal it here. We don’t know to name it, but who in our place can care? It doesn’t matter what a gun was used for, as long as it still shoots…isn’t that right?”
That hadn’t been something Mother had said, or even been alive to hear. That had been the words of Vinny Vangheiss- one of your martial arts tutors, whose history you hadn’t known, but unlike many Hogs, he’d not told anybody the same story, either.
With a pursing of your lips, you glared up at Mother. “What’re you not telling me? I know enough fairy tales t’ know this ain’t free. I’ve lived enough <span class="mu-i">life</span> t’ know there’s a <span class="mu-i">catch</span>.”
