Chapter 1: Siila Marcelius

Anredehl hiked her rosy silk gown up to her calves as she twirled up the spiral staircase leading to the west wing tower. She peeked out of the small blue-tinted window frame and into the orange colored sky that bled through the grey of First Seed clouds. The night was approaching swiftly and her daughter hadn't made an appearance since lunchtime. Praying to Mara under her breath, she hoped this was the last place she had to look.

"Siila, are you up there," the Bosmer called up the towers roof hatch. She sighed in relief when a faint grumble drifted down the open hatch. "Darling, it's time to stop playing. The guests will be arriving soon after night falls. Don't you want to help me frost the cake?"

The stubborn girl sat on the red clay tiles of the tower roof. A soft breeze ruffled the peach colored hair her mother had so desperately attempted to brush. She grumbled to herself and continued surveying the forested landscape before her. No mother of hers would convince her to come down.

"Siila Marcelius!" Anredehl shouted louder through the whistles of wind. "I am very serious. Come down here now."

"I will not! There is no way in Oblivion that I will spend another evening with them while they stare at me and whisper behind my back." Siila huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. The young girl gazed out across the river behind her house. If the setting sun hadn't been shining so bright, the trees of Valenwood would have been visible sprouts on the rolling hills. If only she could fly away and-

"Do not speak like that, Siila. If you don't come down this minute, I will not hesitate to get your father, and you know how stressed he is today." Anredehl, who considered herself to be a reasonable woman, was beginning to lose her patience. She prided herself on her ability to stay calm. But today was different. Today they were visiting. At the moment, the main reason of her stress teetered on her husband's shoulder's: ex-wives and bigoted in-laws made for nasty business.

Siila poked her small head through the hatch, brown doe eyes wide in panic. Thin strands of soft orange hair dangled about her face. "Mama, don't call father! Please don't! I'm here!"

Anredehl guided her seven year old daughter down from the tower roof before the young Bosmer hopped out of her embrace. "Siila look at your hair!" Anredehl plucked up a fly-away strand and shook her head. "Do you know how long it took to brush out all the tangles? Why, if your father saw you-"

"No!" the child clutched her mothers legs. "He is going to yell at me like last time. Don't tell father, please!"

Anredehl chuckled and smoothed her daughters hair down. She bent down to face Siila and patted her cheek with a soft hand. "I won't tell if you run to your room and put on the dress your father brought back from High Rock. Right now."

Siila crinkled her nose before her mother turned her around and sent her off with a slap on the rear. The older Bosmer, now alone, approached the towers railing and stared out into the Cyrodiil sunset that poured over the Strid River. At least she understood why her daughter chose this as a hiding spot.

"Anredehl, tell me love, does I appear ... presentable?"

The elf looked up from her mirror and set her rouge brush down on the vanity. Her husband stood at his mirror across the bedroom, switching angles every few seconds. Droplets of sweat clung to his forehead, reflecting the branches of flame in the fireplace. Anredehl chuckled in her seat. "Cosulus, my dear, your buttons aren't even aligned." She stood from the velvet stool and walked to meet her husband who shakily moved to meet her in front of the fireplace. His hands fumbled in a vain attempt to unbutton his blue brocade doublet. "Look at me." She whispered, taking his sweaty hands in hers.

"You mustn't worry about these things. It has been several years in the past." Anredehl worked his buttons to their correct positions. "There."

The Imperial kissed her forehead, inhaling the lavender scent of her almond brown hair and looking for comfort in her golden speckled brown eyes. "It's her glare, her rotten glare. The same cold stare she gave me the day of our wedding."

"Are you talking about your mother or Penelia?"

"Both." Cosulus sighed as he returned to the full length mirror and combed his shaggy peach hair. He whispered worries at his reflection, drawing a chuckle from his wife's lips as she applied a thin layer of rose colored lipstick. "I think I fright more to see them than I do when the Thalmor visit."

A rythmed knock on the door brought Anredehl to her feet once again. She took a quick glance in the vanity mirror, securing the braids that wrapped around her head and swiping a loose speck of dark kohl off her cheek.

"Siila is waiting in the kitchen, Madam Marcelius." A plump and elderly Breton announced as the woman opened the thick wooden door.

"Yes, Claudette. I'll be down in a few minutes. Please make sure she doesn't poke holes in the cake." The Bosmer hung a white shawl in the nook of each elbow and scurried to her husband once again.
Anredehl cupped her hands around her husbands face and planted a delicate kiss on his chapped lips. "We have each other and our little Siila. Let that give you some strength through dinner."

"As long as you remain by my side, I will be in good company." Cosulus smiled as he watched his wife close the door behind her.

In the kitchen, little Siila threw knives into the larder doors and cast fire from a dusty broom. "Away you scamp, you vermin, you- you smelly beast!"

"Child, No! Please, watch the cake!" Claudette raced on her stumpy legs to catch the flying broom across the room. The tiny elf scurried across the kitchen and plucked up a rolling pin and chopping board. She turned to face her opponent, crashing her weapons against one another.

"Back you Daedroth!" Siila howled. "I forbid your presence in this realm!"

"Siila, please settle down! You might hurt yourself!" Claudette scuttled after the elf like a mudcrab chasing a rabbit The nimble Bosmer rolled underneath a table and jumped onto a nearby chair, throwing her hands to the ceiling above and letting her sword and shield fall to the floor.

"I fear you not, spawn of the Deadlands, for I-" Silla cleared her throat. "I am the Champion of Cyrodii! I have looked into the endless pit of Oblivion and laughed!" The tiny elf shook with passion before leaping to the ground with an ungraceful crash.

"Oh dear, it looks like your father has let you into his library again." Anredehl laughed from the doorway.

"I'm sorry ma'am! I thought I locked the knife drawer." Claudette attempted to smooth the nest of gray hair on her head. Her stretched and ragged dress drooped dangerously low about her bosom, drawing a snort from the young girl on the floor.

"Don't worry Claudette. I know exactly how she got inside." The Bosmer shot her daughter an all too knowing glance as she stepped down onto the marble floor of the kitchen. Anredehl hoped that her daughter's discovery of lockpicks wouldn't come about for another few years, but no thanks to her ferocious appetite for trouble, she had caught her daughter picking at the laboratory door on more than one occasion.

"Siila, no more games. Go wash your hands and come help me frost the cake."

"Mother, they aren't dirty!" The little elf squealed. Her mother glared at her, patience toeing a thin line. Siila shuffled to the wash basin and shook the flour from her sapphire blue dress before her mother could notice. She poured water from the pitcher and quickly rinsed her hands in the bowl before shaking them dry.

"With soap, Siila."

The young elf propped herself on a high stool as her mother twirled around the kitchen gathering ingredients for her decorations. A little sugar in this bowl, a splash of orange juice over there. Siila's duty was to mix and pour, mix and pour. She swiped a glob of half-stirred frosting that dangled off the edge of the icing bowl when she thought her mother was distracted. A bubble of sugar burst in her mouth and dissolved on her tongue. The young wood elf watched in hypnosis as her mother smoothed the white icing over three layers of golden brown cake. Her mother's eyes hardly blinked as she piped delicate floral patterns around it's edges. She handed Siila a single purple flower, which was placed directly in the center of the smallest layer.

"What was that in between them?" Siila piped, pointing at a bowl of leftover purple on the table.

"It's lavender and wine flavored," Claudette spoke from her spot in the corner. "Your mother gave me the recipe. She truly is the best baker I have ever met." The Breton added with an eager nod.

"I'll never be as good as you, Mama," the girl pouted, reaching for a purple coated spoon.

"Not unless you apply yourself, my sweet. I've had years of practice." The corners of Anredehl's mouth curled as she finished the last of the decorations. "Done," she whispered, bending over to kiss Siila's forehead.

"Darling, I have something for you." Anredehl bent her knees to meet her daughters face. From the minute amount of cleavage, she withdrew a twinkling amulet.

Siila turned the item over in her tiny hands. The golden amulet resembled a cross made of two separate pieces; one with flared horizontal arms and one with tapered vertical ends. The contours of the latter held slight resemblance to a dagger. Diamonds sparkled across the center and Siila traced the engravings on the back. Marcelius.

"It looks so new," she whispered in awe.

"Oh, but it isn't. Your grandmother gave it to your father when he came of age to marry. It was a gift from her husband. She wanted your father to give it to his own wife."

"Then why didn't he give it to his first wife. Or Penelia?"

Anredehl giggled and straightened her daughters dress. "Why don't you ask him, little one? Go on to the foyer now and sit with your father. They will be arriving any minute."

Siila raced through the dining room and past the great living room fireplace. Her slippers echoed through the large rooms as they bleated across the polished wooden floor. "Papa! Look what Mama gave me today. Look!"

Cosulus whipped his head around just in time to see his young daughter leap onto his lap with a glowing smile. She settled herself on his legs and brought the amulet to his face.

"She said Atia gave it to you but you didn't give it to your first wife or Penelia after that. That means we are special, doesn't it?"

Cosulus let his shoulders relax as he let out a much-needed laugh. "Yes, Siilie. Yes, you and your mother are the most special people I have ever had the joy of calling my family." He ran his fingers through Siila's hair, the same color as his own. Cosulus cupped his hands around Siila's and brought the golden necklace closer to their faces.

"Why didn't you give it to Penelia? She had two of your daughters. Won't Atia be mad if I wear it?"

"Don't call her Atia, Siilie. She is your grandmother."

"But she told me not to call her that." The Bosmer cocked her head.

"That was years ago."

"It was last Frostfall, Papa."

Cosulus gathered Siila's shoulder length hair in one hand and slipped the amulet around her neck. After her disastrous "experiment" in her mothers alchemy lab, almost half a foot of hair was chopped off to remain any shred of evenness.

"I didn't give it to Nubia or Penelia because it didn't belong to them. It belongs to those whom I love." He smiled, kissing his daughters hands.

After the first hour of dinner, Siila's mouth numbed from the strain of having to smile so much. Her back too was murdering her; she had never had to sit up so straight for so long. If her chair allowed it, she would be bending over backwards. She never understood why having guests over for dinner meant that she could no longer slouch.

"Napkin," Claudette whispered as she set a bowl of radish salad on the table. The tiny Bosmer used her foot to fish around beneath the table for the fallen cloth. A sandy blonde imperial, several years older than Siila, curled her lips in a slight snarl as she stared at the Bosmer desperately trying to kick her napkin toward a reaching hand. While Silla didn't mind her oldest half-sister, she had a feeling that such an opinion was not mutual.

Atia and Cosulus sat at opposite ends of the table. Atia glared through her deep wrinkles, chewing each mouthful at least 50 times as though she might choke on a spoonful of mashed potato. Her icy stares bounced between Cosulus and his wife, every now and then dropping to little Siila and her sparkly new amulet. Upon their greeting, Atia actually gasped at the sight of it against the tan skin of her granddaughters chest.

"Lielle, aren't you hungry?" Penelia, equally as blonde as her oldest daughter, asked before sipping her wine.

"I can't say I am," Lielle sighed, pushing her plate away from her. "I just don't seem to have much of an appetite." The blonde imperial toyed with a corkscrew curl that dangled from its ponytail. She gave a sideways glance towards her sister, Renesia, who shoveled another spoonful of mashed potato into her mouth.

"Well, I'm sure you'll change your mind when we bring out dessert. Siila and I made it earlier today," Anredehl said with a smile, gently dabbing at the corners of her mouth.
Lielle wrinkled her nose.

"What kind of cake!" Renesia asked excitedly through a mouthful of radish salad.

"Renesia! We talked about this!" Lielle shrieked at her plump sister. The younger girl shriveled into her chair and tucked a strand of orange hair behind her ear.

"It's Vanilla," Anredehl answered her, avoiding the older girl's constipated face.

"And there's a lavender filling!" Siila chimed in between desperate stabs and slashes at her steak.

"What was it that you discussed, Lielle?" Cosulus inquired , looking up from his plate of venison.

"Nothing, father." The imperial lowered her head. A faint blush rose to her cheeks while she pushed onion and squash around on her plate.

"Is that true? What did she tell you, Renesia?" Cosulus asked his second oldest daughter.

Lielle gasped and whipped her head to her younger sister. Renesia's large blue eyes widened even more as panic overtook her young and very rotund body. She glanced at her sister, searching for something say.

"No," Lielle mouthed and shook her head, blonde curls twirling around her face.

"Renesia, answer your father," Penelia commanded.

"Lielle told me- she told me not to eat anything because the Bosmers serve people for dinner."

Siila's eyes shot up from her butchered steak while her father dropped his fork with a loud clang. Anredehl and Penelia both gasped in unison and for a few moments the room was silent save for the crackle of oak in the fireplace and patter of First Seed sprinkles.
Atia's cackle echoed throughout the room like that of a Hagraven.

"Lielle!" Her mother huffed. "How dare you! Anredehl I-"

"I didn't say it! I didn't!" Lielle sobbed. Renesia watched through forkfuls of venison as Lielle patted her eyes on the sleeves of her dress.

"And where on Nirn would she have heard something like that, Penelia?" Anredehl stood from the table, mouth pursed in a tight bud.

Cosulus rose from his chair to escort his mother to the back porch for air in fear that she would faint from lack of oxygen.

Red velvet engulfed Siila's body as she rested on her father's lounging chair in front of the fireplace. Rawlith, her faithful companion, laid at the foot of her chair underneath her dangling feet. Siila savored her slice of pity cake and nudged Rawlith whenever his snores became too loud. If she chewed slow enough, she could hear her parents argument in the hallway.

"I can't-I- Cosulus, please. Don't make me sit through that again. Don't make our daughter have to sit through such- she's too young." Anredehl sniffled into her husbands nightshirt and wiped her tears with his sleeve.

"Siila doesn't even know what Lielle meant. You mustn't take it so harsh. The girl is only ten."

"Don't use that as an excuse." The Bosmer narrowed her eyes at the man. "Lielle is only going to get nastier because nobody tells her what is wrong. And your mother! Surely you will not overlook that."

Cosulus wrapped his arms around Anredehl's slender frame. "My mother is old and set in her ways. She-She can not accept my decisions."

"Cosulus, please! It is one thing that she can not accept me, but Siila? She is only seven, she doesn't deserve that treatment. " Anredehl pulled away from her husbands embrace. "Listen to me, Cosulus," her voice sharpened. "You're lucky to be from noble blood. You're lucky that you're family pledged it's allegiance to the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. You have never faced the cruelty of those who despise your race. For Mara's sake, I will not have Siila surrounded by such bigotry. The next time you bring them over, we- we will be out."

Siila swallowed a spoonful of frosting as her mother stormed off down the hall. Her angry footsteps echoed off the wooden walls while Cosulus called out after her. Rawlith awoke from his slumber and raised his black and white head towards the interrupting noises.

"Siila?" came a hushed voice from the living room doorway.

The young Bosmer peered over the back rest of the chair. "Why is mama so upset?"

Cosulus shook his head and leaned against the doorway. "Not everyone can see the beauty in others, darling. It... saddens your mother." The Imperial ran his hands down his cheeks, twisting the wild strands of orange hair that hung about his chin. "Darling, could you go up to your bedroom now? I need some space to think."

Siila nodded her head and slid off the chair. "Come, Rawlith. You can have my leftover cake. I think you could use some." She patted behind her leg as she walked to her father and squeezed his legs good night.

Cosulus shuffled to his arm chair and released a long sigh as he sunk into the plush velvet. On his right side table, a half eaten slice of cake called to him.

"Hmm, pity cake." He chuckled.