Reality Sets In (The Childhood of Thessan and Kitiara Silvan)

“I can not imagine anything else."

Heath Silvan could not control his emotions any longer, and it showed. As a knight of the realm and heir to the family fortune he had become stoic, to stoic for most. His men all respected him. His leadership and swordsmanship skills had been proven countless times in battle, but none knew him as friend. Kuhr considered this a necessary part of the life he was given, and he embraced it to a fault.

“Can it be that I have finally seen what I have been looking for?”

Celest had loved Heath from the moment she saw him. Sadly she had feared him as well. The emotions in her were almost uncontrollable. As the daughter to a nobleman she had been taught to remain in control and show little emotion, but in Heath’s presence she failed miserably. Her greatest fear was that she could only love him and he held his feelings for her so close that for many months she could not know the fate of her heart.

“I love you Celest. Yes must be the answer.”

As a child I was told this story many times. It is that of true love. Unfortunately stories and reality never tell the same tale.

Shortly after they wed the story of my family really begins.

My older sister Kitiara has given me permission to tell the tale. We both believe that it is honorable and necessary to do so. Family secrets are weakness to those who hide them and a lesson for those who embrace them. I know not the lesson in this, but for me, it must be told.

I am Thessan Silvan the second child of Heath and Celest Silvan. My older sister and the person most responsible for my upbringing is Kitiara. I have a brother, well a half brother. Our relationship is complicated. All will be told here, at least all that I can bare to tell.

My Father, well that is the twist in the story. He loved my mother truly. He also loved his brother. When my Uncle was slain not in battle, but in a meaningless act of thievery, my father grieved for some time. He was so used to holding back his emotion that, well, he could not handle it. He found the bottle and in it his redemption. For my mother and my sister of 7, it was a curse. He functioned well for the few years following the death of his brother. The bottle however was taking its toll. His men were beginning to lose his respect. This made matters worse. My father had no friends and cared not to show weakness to his wife or daughter. He fell further into the bottle.

One night as he was doing police work for the noble family of Thorbin, he fell into the arms of the nobleman’s daughter. This act of transgression was discrete and only occurred once. However this night alone marked the downfall of my father and my mother.

My father felt such regret that, for a time, he left the bottle. Soon after that day, my life began. I remember my father when I was a child of 2. Unusual for one to hold memories of that age so strongly, but for me they are the only memories I really want to have of my father. It was on the 3rd anniversary of my birth that we had a visitor. Lesell Thorbin. She was the mark of my father’s recovery and on this day the mark of his downfall.

The Thorbin family had come under hard times due to some badly placed loans and business ventures. When it became apparent that she might not be able to feed her child, she came to see my father. The child was turning 4 the same day as I was turning 3. This was made more unusual by the fact that the male child was known as Kuhr Silvan. He was my half brother, brought into this world on the night of my father’s transgression.

As one can imagine I have very poor memories of the rest of that day. Needless to say my father denied the claim and sent the mother and child off. Though my mother claimed she believed my father’s denial, that was obviously a lie.

They pretended all was well for a few days, at best. Soon my father claimed urgent business and left for a few days to attend to it. He returned 2 weeks later. Drunk. He could not live with the actions of 4 years before nor could he live with the act of abandoning his child. So the bottle gave him the strength to continue the lie to his wife and to support, through discrete means, his son. My mother loved him, but even that love could not cover up the anger that grew inside her. The next several years were almost absent of any real parents for me or my sister. Kitiara cared for me and trained me as she had once been trained by our father.

The training was intense. I think it was our way of escaping.

We knew loving parents once but now during the times my father was around he was drunk, and my mother was constantly showing her growing distain for him. In my father’s absence, my mothers self pity made her distant and seemingly uncaring.

Such was our life until my 15th year.

My father left on one of his business trips and never returned. One month later my mother sought him out. He was with Lesell. This was all she could bare. She took up my father’s sword. She was not trained as was my father, and I believe he could have easily disarmed her. I also believe he could no longer live with the man he had become. By my brother’s account of the act, my father stood there and waited. As my mother drove the blade home he said his last words “forgive me”. Maybe if he had the strength to say those words sooner the day might have been different. My mother stopped all support to my brother. She became seclusive and left all matters to the servants. About two months later my mother took her own life. No note was left, or any word spoken. I stumbled onto her body about 5 days dead. No one had even tried to find her, not even her children.

She passed and was buried next to her husband with little notice except to me and Kitiara.