*the following book is penned in a fine hand with lovely looping writing of one of proper education*
February 14, 2024,
The days run together. After thinking this over I thought this journal would aid in helping the days to separate from one another. But alas, I struggle over what to write. So I digress to the beginning of my life’s tale.
I was born on the cusp of winter and spring in the year 1322. I was born unto the Royal Empress of Russia, and the Tsar Nikolas. My upbringing was very regal. Not that I often would have much of it. I was born the youngest so little weight was placed upon my shoulders for the Royal family. My studies showed it.
I had three older brothers and one sister. From the time I could remember my caregivers pushed all the things of a proper womanly upbringing at me. They taught me languages and teachings of manners. I caught on fast to them. Could do them in my sleep by my 6th birthday.
The one thing that always held my attention was watching my brothers sword play. The art was amazing to me. I would watch for hours as they worked in the main hall while my sister tried to get me to engage in polite proper conversation. But things such as the weather and how the latest rumors among the dukes held little interest to the gleaming flash of the blades.
I was forbidden to watch any longer when one day. While the our arranged marriage partners were visiting picked up a sword and leapt into the mock fray between the boys.
Oh yes, I was bad at it. Stumbling over my dress and slicing into my left arm as I fell in a lunge. But the feeling the weight of the blade the feeling of the stress on my body as I tried to force it to do only what I had seen, it was as if I had been handed the world.
From that point on I was on strict education training on how a proper lady should behave. I hated the teachings. So I would sneak out of my room climbing down the walls until I reached the bushes. From there I fled into the forest where my brothers had been moved for their training. There every day I would watch with great interest with my wooden blade I made of a stick.
Eventually my family found out. The Duke of the boy I was to marry found out as well. After a year of trying to curb my wild abandon the Duke refused to allow the marriage any longer. My father could hardly blame him for such a thing as his daughter was wild beyond reason.
I was then forced to stay within the church at all time save for when the family was required to be together. It was within these walls that I learned of a great gift bestowed upon me. I held the gift to heal. It was not much but I could make a minor cut or scrape go away with just a few words. I turned to liking this gift. I even showed my mother it one day.
That was when she took me aside in her bed chamber and told me of Gaia. How she had touched me. This was confusing to me as never had been mentioned this Gaia ever. But I learned the story. I found that it called to me with a greater hold than the good book ever had. I learned tales of these spirits called the triad of the wyld, the weaver, and the wyrm.
While it was frowned on for me healing people I still did. I would sneak out of the house every few nights making my way to a town. Where a healer would allow me to aid them. The feeling was warm when I healed a person it felt right so I decided to keep doing it.
I continued my existence this way for several years. Then for my 16th year of life a grand party was held. My parents invited many people from many countries to it. There was a Duke from Germany Christian Rothchilde or something of that nature.
When he was at the party he would not stop looking at me as if I was some grand appearance. I saw him speaking to my Mother there too. The crease of her brow told me that she did not like what was being said to her.
It was after all the guest had left that I was told I would be leaving. It seemed that until that point. Everything in my life which I believed was real was a lie.
February 15, 2024
A tryst my Mother called it. An affair she had while my father… while the Tsar was away some 17 years before my birth. It seemed I was not blood to the Tsar. I was a bastard child of some other man. The Duke of Germany. He demanded that I be sent to him by the time I reached my next birthday. I was outraged, but nothing I could say would change my mother’s mind.
She wove this story to my father about how my gifts were a blessing from god and that I should be shared with the church. After some talking it had been decided. I would be going to a nunnery, at least as far as the Tsar believed. My name was stricken from the family record. The priest of the church suggested this would make life easier for me and the family.
When the day came. There were no good byes at the gates. No tears from my family. All that I had was a stable boy with a letter for me as I was ushered to this man who was to take me to the sea and board a boat which was going to take me to Venice then from there to Bavaria.
When I got to the boat the stable boy who had traveled with us to take back the horses gave me the letter. I burned it after I read it unable to see through my rage tears.
The Duke was my father but he was a noble man. So my mother claimed. He sought me back. For I had a pure breed about myself that his tribe needed. The letter told me of things then that I did not believe. It told me of vampires, and werewolves. Told me that all the tales she told me about Gaia she learned from her family which had promised her to the Tsar to strengthen their hold in Russia. I was told that all would be explained to me once I arrived to this place called Sept. A member of my father’s court would retrieve me from Venice and whisk me away to Bavaria.
When I read that… That is when it started my hatred of the one thing that destroyed my life. My hatred of a thing called Garou.