Fanfic:The Start of Things
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Part I
The smell of warm mutton stew filled the kitchen of the Sha'hal household in Saldaea. A modest farm just a short walk from town, no town of note, but it was bordered by Maradon, the capitol. Miahala was standing at the table, carefully slicing vegetables. She was tuning out of a one-sided conversation her mother was having at her. She was avoiding being caught by an unwanted earful from Miashala. Mia had been named for after her mother with the one slight alteration to it. Mia had been foolish enough to get caught scribbling out a picture of a flower while she sat bored that morning. Her mother didn't approve of drawing, or dancing for that matter, as Mia had come to learn.
"Just because we live on a farm that does not mean we should not act and behave in all manners like the royalty we should be." Miashala commanded, kneading the dough feircely. "Only beggars on the street draw, they draw cheap portraits for ill-fated money. I don't want to see you drawing anything ever again! Do you hear me girl?!" She snapped.
"Yes." Mia said sadly, dropping the vegetables into the kettle.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, mother." She walked to the back of the house and up the ladder to the loft where the children slept. There was a heavy blanket nailed to the ceiling to separate Mia's section from that of her three brothers'. Her twin baby sisters slept downstairs in their parent's room. She lay on her bed, a simple mat on the floor with quilt and pillow. She pulled free a drawing pad and pencil from beneath it and began to draw. Sketchily at first, then harder and harder until she had nearly driven a hole through it. "Burn the woman." She cursed beneath her breath, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears and jamming her things back beneath the mattress.
Darkness fell. Shortly after sunset dinner was served and the household went to bed. That was when Mia and her oldest brother Dorant snuck from their beds and outside, taking care to be very quiet. Dorant had his flute with him and Miahala was wearing her dancing dress: a skirt made up of a dozen brightly colored panels sewn together in such a way that they flared nearly horizontal when she spun and were only sewn from waistband to knee. Her off-the-shoulder, flowing-sleeved shirt was laced up tightly at front and both sides.
A short ways from her house, midst the small patch of woods between their farm and town the two met up with Allsa, Mia's best friend. They had been doing this for a while. The three would meet up and go to the tavern on the edge of town. They had an entertainment agreement with Mistress Alvey of the Golden Silver. For a couple hours Dorant would play flute, Allsa would sing and Mia would dance on the table tops. She did not dance the sa'sara, remove any clothes or be a twitch-skirt. She just wanted a chance to share her gift.
After the evening was over, the tired trio began their trek home. Allsa went her own way from Mia and Dorant as they continued on to their house. Neither one expected to see their mother sitting at the table, a single candle lit and a notepad and pieces of paper in her hand.
"Go to bed, Dorant." She ordered tightly.
"Ma, we can..." He began to say.
"To bed!"
"But..." He began again, but Mia rested her hand on his shoulder and nodded, he sighed and went to the room. If anyone in the household was held to higher standards than all the rest, it was Miashala's first born daughter. And Mia knew she was going to have to pay the Dark One for the life she had lived and the fun she had had. It was all over.
"Rumor has it my daughter is a slut, apparently the rumor is true." Miashala sneered, "And portraits for a penny?" She said, mockingly, she lifted the notepad and loose drawings from the table and tossed them into the fire, they sizzled and seared.
"Momma..." She began, but before she could blink her mother was across the room and backhanded her so hard she fell to her hands and knees, rainbows dancing before her eyes.
"What a disappointment you are, you have always been. Get out, disgraceful wretch and never return to my sight." Mia climbed to her feet and held her head up, and left. She never looked back.
Part II
Mia slept in that stables until morning came. First light brought her three brothers, who awakened her. Dorant had to bags with him. "We're sorry that you are being forced to leave. We all heard what mother said to you last night. That flaming woman, she will regret what's she's done. I'm coming with you." Dorant said. Mia rubbed the sleep from her eyes, as he handed her one of the bags.
"But why? She didn't kick you out too, did she?" She asked, drowsily taking the bag and looking in it. She found some of her clothes, a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth, a skin of water, and her knife. He thought of everything.
"No, but this is the last straw. She is a tyrant and father refuses to stand up to her, even for the sake of his own children." She nodded. Not many more words were spoken, but her other brothers told her they were not planning on staying home long either. Mia embraced each of her them, the she took Rusty, her pony from his stall and Dorant took his big black mare, Ellisande. And off they went.
Two weeks of riding and entertaining for meals and money brought them free of Saldaean borders. It was mostly hard traveling on deserted and dusty roads. Dorant's brute farm boy strength and Mia's knife were hardly ever needed but in moments of watching caution.
Quite some time after departing Saldaea, they found themselves in the City of Baerlon. It seemed a festival day, people were acting sill, laughing and feasting. Mia and Dorant were confounded as to which holiday it may have been. Mia stopped a woman passing the door of the Inn they stood before.
"What festival night is this?" She asked the plump, merry-looking woman in silks and embroidery.
"Why, Foolday, dear." She replied sweetly. "Foolday..." Mia repeated, "It looks like the Festival of Unreason, but its only Saven, not yet Tammaz."
"Oh, my lovely girl," The woman began, speaking kindly, "You are from Saldaea, are you not?"
Mia, taken back, nodded.
"You are a long way from home, but this is Baerlon, and here Foolday is celebrated in Saven! Have fun!" She said, happily continuing on her way down the night-darkened street. Mia and Dorant shrugged, and went into the Inn. They spent the rest of the night switching between entertaining to earn their night's keep and dancing pairs with a couple attractive young partners.
Mia awoke on a bench in the common room. She did not know where Dorant was until he came down the stairs holding the hand of the very pretty (and shy) serving girl he had danced the night with. Mia smiled at the two. Her brother walked up to her, gnawing on his lower lip.
"I think we should stay, Mia, I-I want to stay." He said, appearing nervous as to her reply. The lovely girl behind him looked at her shyly.
"I wish you a wonderful life, my dearest brother," She embraced him. "You have my love, always." She snatched up her bag and swiftly walked out to the stables, hearing his stuttering acquiescence and fare well behind her. She gathered up her pony and left Baerlon, smiling back at the Inn and the brother who could not see her face, her joy or her tears.
She traveled into the Mountains of Mist. Her journey was not overly eventful, except for one incident in which she was forced to pull her knife and chase off some scraggly youth who was both larger and older than she.
Tired and ragged (both she and the horse) the two (horse and rider) came upon the awe-inspiring gates of a tall grey tower, with surrounding sprawling buildings. Walking through those gates was the best decision of her life. She was dressed in white, learning many new things she loved, and was given the right to live her life, and she did. As had started with her brother Dorant, she continued to learn how to love and to be loved, despite perilous times and a perilous life to come.
