Sequel: The Dark Witch ›
ορφανό και Εὐρυδίκη
That of Love and Power
P.O.V – Maria Le Fay
You have to understand, my mother…I love her more than anything, even my father, though he'd loathe to hear me say it. Not that he cares much about love anyway. He knows I love my mother, just not how much, and what of it he does know, he perceives as weakness. For he cares not for love, only devotion, loyal devotion, to him, which I possess in spades, I would die for him if he asked me. If it was for the cause for which we fight. For power, the only really thing there is, along with those who choose to seek it of course, of which I am included.
He has always brought me up this way, to 'love' power and nothing else, but somehow, my love for my mother escaped his wise teachings. For which a part of me is grateful, and the other…wants me to cut myself off at the quick for daring to be so utterly stupid. What is love, but a useless emotion that short circuits the mind and distracts one from things of greater importance? Love, if it is good for anything at all, is only useful when controlled, when one recognizes there are things greater than love, and rejecting the insane notion, pursues loftier goals, or at least uses the 'love' to their own advantage.
My mission is an example of the latter, there is nothing, nothing, my heart desires more than to sit by my mother's bedside testing out every method of healing I know to restore her, but I know my father's mission is more important. We have a worthy cause; the wizard race needs to be purified, and to do this my father needs more supporters. Ones who will not shy away from the unfortunate, but necessary, bloodshed that is to come in our fight for restoration of the pure bloodlines. Isn't such a noble cause worth more than that of love?
Besides, my father will heal mother someday, I'm sure of it. He is just waiting for the right time, the right moment…then he will save her. I do believe he…cares for her. Maybe not in the way that I do, he is too intelligent for such a useless emotion as love, but I do believe some part of him, somewhere, feels for her. It makes sense, right? That my father would care for my mother, in some small way? After all, they are connected, bonded in a way that I can't even…
My mother gave herself, her essence, her light, her very soul to my father. A great sacrifice on her part to aide his mission. And I cannot believe that such a selfless act would not endear her to him in some way. I have to believe that. That she did not sacrifice herself in vain for the mission…for him, and his love. For I know that she did love him, more than anything, and as lovely and romantic as that is, it just shows my mother was weak. That she never understood the uselessness of love and, in her stupidity, she somehow managed to pass that same worthless gene to me. I hate her for that as I love her. For if not for that gene, I know I could serve my father better. Maybe, just maybe, even be worthy of him and the title as his daughter.
But this is all useless thought, wasteful and unnecessary. Why do I waste my time thinking about love, when I could be hurrying on my way to Hogwarts castle to begin my mission? Is it because…because…
My thoughts trailed off as I sighed to myself. Closing my eyes, I moved to rest my right hand against the cracked open door of my mother's bedchambers. I was clearly stalling, afraid of what I would find within.
My mother's condition, though always poor, she had never even learned my name, had worsened as of late. For my father had needed to use more of her 'light' to fuel some of his operations and, by doing so, she was now unable to even roll over in cot unaided. He had promised me; however, that he would restore her as soon as her power was no longer needed and that he would see to it that she would be well cared for in my absence. Somehow, despite my upbringing or perhaps because of it, I don't believe him. Though, I believe somewhere in him, he cares for my mother, I do not believe he cares for her well being in the same way that I do. He has promised to restore her for years, but all I have ever seen or known, is a mother who looks at me and knows me not. She is an invalid, confined to her cot, crazy with madness and yet, he never does anything but chide me for caring. Perhaps I am weak.
With that thought in mind, I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. My father would not wait for me forever. I was lucky he had even allowed me a goodbye with my mother at all, and sooner or later, he, or one of his supporters, would be along to drag me off to Hogwarts. An experience, I am already well assured, would not be a pleasant one.
I pressed my hand hard against the door, pushing it open and entering the room. Well, it wasn't even much of a room really; in fact, it could be likened more to that of a small dungeon. For cobwebs and chains were everywhere that could be seen in the dim, torch lit, lighting, there were even bones in the odd corners of the room. And, at the heart of it, was my frail mother, lying snuggly on top of her, hopefully, warm cot.
Slowly I walked over to her, fighting back tears. Though I had never known her any other way, I knew that this was not natural and that, once, she had been proud and strong. No one like that should ever end up this way, mission, love, or no.
It wasn't long before I found myself beside her sleeping form. I smiled down at her, I had always thought her so beautiful, despite her rather drawn features. Tenderly, I reached out my hand, allowing it to caress her bony cheek, "I love you, mother." I whispered softly to her, before bending down and giving her a kiss on the same cheek that I had just caressed. Then, without another word, I turned and swept from the room. I no longer belonged here. For my mission was not here, it lied at Hogwarts, and that is now where I belong.
You have to understand, my mother…I love her more than anything, even my father, though he'd loathe to hear me say it. Not that he cares much about love anyway. He knows I love my mother, just not how much, and what of it he does know, he perceives as weakness. For he cares not for love, only devotion, loyal devotion, to him, which I possess in spades, I would die for him if he asked me. If it was for the cause for which we fight. For power, the only really thing there is, along with those who choose to seek it of course, of which I am included.
He has always brought me up this way, to 'love' power and nothing else, but somehow, my love for my mother escaped his wise teachings. For which a part of me is grateful, and the other…wants me to cut myself off at the quick for daring to be so utterly stupid. What is love, but a useless emotion that short circuits the mind and distracts one from things of greater importance? Love, if it is good for anything at all, is only useful when controlled, when one recognizes there are things greater than love, and rejecting the insane notion, pursues loftier goals, or at least uses the 'love' to their own advantage.
My mission is an example of the latter, there is nothing, nothing, my heart desires more than to sit by my mother's bedside testing out every method of healing I know to restore her, but I know my father's mission is more important. We have a worthy cause; the wizard race needs to be purified, and to do this my father needs more supporters. Ones who will not shy away from the unfortunate, but necessary, bloodshed that is to come in our fight for restoration of the pure bloodlines. Isn't such a noble cause worth more than that of love?
Besides, my father will heal mother someday, I'm sure of it. He is just waiting for the right time, the right moment…then he will save her. I do believe he…cares for her. Maybe not in the way that I do, he is too intelligent for such a useless emotion as love, but I do believe some part of him, somewhere, feels for her. It makes sense, right? That my father would care for my mother, in some small way? After all, they are connected, bonded in a way that I can't even…
My mother gave herself, her essence, her light, her very soul to my father. A great sacrifice on her part to aide his mission. And I cannot believe that such a selfless act would not endear her to him in some way. I have to believe that. That she did not sacrifice herself in vain for the mission…for him, and his love. For I know that she did love him, more than anything, and as lovely and romantic as that is, it just shows my mother was weak. That she never understood the uselessness of love and, in her stupidity, she somehow managed to pass that same worthless gene to me. I hate her for that as I love her. For if not for that gene, I know I could serve my father better. Maybe, just maybe, even be worthy of him and the title as his daughter.
But this is all useless thought, wasteful and unnecessary. Why do I waste my time thinking about love, when I could be hurrying on my way to Hogwarts castle to begin my mission? Is it because…because…
My thoughts trailed off as I sighed to myself. Closing my eyes, I moved to rest my right hand against the cracked open door of my mother's bedchambers. I was clearly stalling, afraid of what I would find within.
My mother's condition, though always poor, she had never even learned my name, had worsened as of late. For my father had needed to use more of her 'light' to fuel some of his operations and, by doing so, she was now unable to even roll over in cot unaided. He had promised me; however, that he would restore her as soon as her power was no longer needed and that he would see to it that she would be well cared for in my absence. Somehow, despite my upbringing or perhaps because of it, I don't believe him. Though, I believe somewhere in him, he cares for my mother, I do not believe he cares for her well being in the same way that I do. He has promised to restore her for years, but all I have ever seen or known, is a mother who looks at me and knows me not. She is an invalid, confined to her cot, crazy with madness and yet, he never does anything but chide me for caring. Perhaps I am weak.
With that thought in mind, I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. My father would not wait for me forever. I was lucky he had even allowed me a goodbye with my mother at all, and sooner or later, he, or one of his supporters, would be along to drag me off to Hogwarts. An experience, I am already well assured, would not be a pleasant one.
I pressed my hand hard against the door, pushing it open and entering the room. Well, it wasn't even much of a room really; in fact, it could be likened more to that of a small dungeon. For cobwebs and chains were everywhere that could be seen in the dim, torch lit, lighting, there were even bones in the odd corners of the room. And, at the heart of it, was my frail mother, lying snuggly on top of her, hopefully, warm cot.
Slowly I walked over to her, fighting back tears. Though I had never known her any other way, I knew that this was not natural and that, once, she had been proud and strong. No one like that should ever end up this way, mission, love, or no.
It wasn't long before I found myself beside her sleeping form. I smiled down at her, I had always thought her so beautiful, despite her rather drawn features. Tenderly, I reached out my hand, allowing it to caress her bony cheek, "I love you, mother." I whispered softly to her, before bending down and giving her a kiss on the same cheek that I had just caressed. Then, without another word, I turned and swept from the room. I no longer belonged here. For my mission was not here, it lied at Hogwarts, and that is now where I belong.