Lady Veratt Cassalanter- A Brief History of a Short Life

A new life

My life was beginning again, I was with my friends and my new family. It was hard to adjust, to no being a lady, to recognise myself in the mirror... but my friends supported me, they treated me with the same kindness, warmth and respect...even Brackir. He was still the first to come to my aid and stand beside me in battle, an the first to try and cheer me up when I felt sad. His kind words and gentle smile still picked me up on my lowest days.

The hardest thing to come to terms with was the fact that I would never see or hear from Ront again. the fake was sent in my place, she had my memories and my body, she would know all our secrets and his favourite tricks. He would think that I went back to him, and I would never hear from him again, I would never get another letter, or badly drawn photograph of us, and it broke me. At the end of the first week I expected a letter to be delivered as always...but it did not come, as days went by the sadness swept over and pulled me down like a wave. I passed the time humming the song I would sing to him as he lay in his bed, clutching his stuffed deer when we were children. One day Shaka caught me humming to myself in the kitchen, when I was in a far-off trance, and begged me to sing from him. At first, I was unsure and uncomfortable, but after a few lines, I felt the words come back to me, and they flowed out of me without effort. Shaka seemed to enjoy it, and wanted me to do it more, but remembering the years of singing to Ront hurt me, and I couldn't oblige him.

The day before my birthday I was greeted by Shaka in dreadful disguise, claiming to be shakawise the magician. He put on a show in my honour to celebrate my birthday, with several of the guild watching, it was a tragedy. The poor bunny in his haversack had suffocated, and he ran out of handkerchiefs, but I really appreciated the effort. He went out of his way to make me feel loved and special...more than anyone had done so beside my dear Ront. He gave me a gift, a very sweet gift that became my most treasured possession. He had written me a story book, in both common and draconic. The story of a princess, who fed from a bad home life and who became a warrior, inspiring hope in the hearts of those who had none. The story was mine how he saw my life, and it touched me. I spent hours pouring over the book, both the common and draconic pages, taking in his handwriting and how he saw me, how he thought I shaped the word around me. This was the gift he tried to burn when I took the stinger away from him... I had never received such a precious gift, it easily surpassed any of the finery I had received in the past. I thanked him, but in my heart, I could truly not express how I felt, the gratitude, the love, the ache for my brother, the raw and unpolished feeling of pride....in both myself and in Shaka.

The next day I woke up and rushed to collect the mail and stopped halfway, realising that there would be nothing there for me. I slowly returned to my room and climbed back into bed, staring at the ceiling for a few hours before taking the book Shaka gave me downstairs. The day was quiet and uneventful, which was nice, I had time to read the book a few times, and enjoy the peace and quiet company of my family in my home. As night fell and the church started filling up, I felt overwhelmed and had to escape. I took the book and letter to the top of the church and sat on the roof, under the moonlight. I unfolded the letter and read it again, for the first time in a year, and the last time ever.

"To Big Sis Spike,

Happy birthday, I hope your friends in your town are throwing you a big fancy party like we would if you were here. I miss you, come home soon.

Lots of love, your Ront."

                To stop myself from crying I held the letter close to me and sang to myself quietly, singing songs that Ront would beg me to hear, his lullaby, the song of the soldiers going to war and returning home, the song of seasons coming and going, and finally, Happy birthday before I couldn't contain it. The tears streamed down my face and splashed onto the cover of Shakas gift. I wiped them away and sniffed, glad nobody was around to see me, before looking up at the moon and finally coming to terms that I would never see my baby brother again, but at least he would be happy. That night I hardly slept. I spent it on the roof, looking out into the sea of stars and wondering if I made the right choice to stay, and if my freedom was truly that important to me.