If any could ever find fault in me as I fulfilled my merciful duties, that fault was my love. I loved every single living person, just as much as I loved those who had already died. King, peasant, whore, saint, I loved them all.
My only sadness was how none loved me, in return. It was heartbreaking. Every time I approached, the people I loved so dearly fled as though I was a monster, come to bring them agony and pain. No, that was my mother’s duty, and they adored her, but I was not bitter.
Mother’s duties were unpleasant enough as it was, and in her twisted mind, she thought herself a scion of goodness and love to those beneath us. She did not need me to think cruelly of her, even when she brought suffering upon the hearts of innocent children. Besides that, it was simply not my place. Read the rest of this entry »