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“Who cares?” Mother said with a smile in her voice, “Is anybody going to prove that I am wrong? That you are wrong?” A pause, then another sigh. “This is all I can give you now, darling daughter. Let me help you in the way only I can.” You waited, unable to do much else and not having the energy to banish her with spat fire. “You are ashamed to be the daughter of a whore, Anya. I guess I can’t blame you. Do you have to be that, though? Could you not be…something else?”
Something in her tone changed- and so did her face. A shifting of her bangs, and Mother’s eyes were a dazzling, icy shade of blue that you didn’t remember. “What d’you mean,” you pressed skeptically.
“You should be proud of whence you came, shouldn’t you? That’s why you call yourself a warrior of the wastes. That’s why you call yourself Hell Gitt’s daughter. But that’s not true, is it? All these years, and you’ve not let go of your shame. So. Just answer this,” when you blinked, her hair had gone paler, it wasn’t straw hued like yours any longer, “If you had the choice, don’t you think it would be better to be a secret princess? A queen? I know how you and your sister liked to play. What if it weren’t fantasy? If you discovered that you were the lost heir of some magical kingdom…would you reject that for what you are now? Because your terrible, awful mother, could at least let you have your blood…”
It was a mad idea. Your mother wasn’t some secret noble, no heiress to a fallen but gloried name. Alina had asked whoever she could after that, and there was no chance of it. She was just some woman that fled from up north, alone, without a pfenning to her name.
Yet whether or not it could be true wasn’t what had been asked.
>What kind of question was that? Who would turn down that life if they had the choice to have it? Only a sentimental fool. The whole purpose of becoming the legend was to claw away from having been nothing and nobody- and to be more than you truly were would only help you in that endeavor.
>To be something like that would mean not being the person you are- a person forged from the fire of strife. A truth of the past like that wouldn’t help you- it’d only hurt. To know that what made you special was something you hadn’t earned for yourself.
>Other?
