Merchant Of Cats

Prologue

A/N: I would really, really appreciate it if people voted when they read this. It will show me that you guys care. I just want to know if you guys are really there... Sometimes it feels so lonely, like I have no support. Thanks.

-Aria

Prologue

         Elsa Fennier was a proper young girl. Elsa Fennier was a prim girl. She did not speak unless spoken to. She did not move unless told to. She did not live unless she was told to live.

 Well, not literally.

         She was the daughter of a wealthy father, the kind that ignored his child and left her upbringing to the maids and the servants. His wife, Elsa’s mother, had died many years before, and since then he’d little time for the girl that should have been born a boy.

         So she grew up alone, her whole life a sad existence. Meek and quiet, she was like a doll. Like the porcelain beauties her father constantly pushed onto her. Elsa hated them, but she could never muster up the courage to tell him, so year after year, birthday after birthday, she continued to receive them.

     That was until her father brought “Her” home. 

          Maeva.

       She would later learn that Maeva was her older sister, born out of wedlock when her father was a much younger man. Back then he’d no use for her and left her to her mother. That changed when he decided he didn’t want to pay someone to care for his young daughter. So he fired the maids and the nannies and Maeva became her caretaker.

          Maeva was a gentle and kind older sister. She loved little Elsa like no other, teaching her much about what she needed to know.

             Like, if things became too terrible, Elsa would only have to sing a song and all the bad things would go away. Though only if there was no other way, Maeva would say. Of course Elsa never felt the need and the song was locked away in the vaults of her memories.

              For a long time she was content with her quiet, silent, and peaceful world. Elsa did not wish for anything to change.

  But little did she know that she had no control over fate.

               For at the tender young age of seventeen, Elsa Fennier found herself sister less, engaged, and fighting the clutches of the darkest of evils.