On the day I was born my parents rejoiced. A feast was planned. Gifts arrived from the far reaches of the realm.
Then I opened my eyes.
My mother screamed.
The midwife fainted.
My father proclaimed he had no child. The feast was canceled. The gifts sent back. A proclamation of a stillborn child was announced.
My parents were of minor nobility in Westcrown. A family of their stature would never acknowledge the torrid past of an ancestor's illicit dealing with a demon. Never mind that it was that devil's pact that brought them the wealth and prestige they so adore and love. The very position they bask in as they lord over those they consider inferior.
But my black 'soulless' eyes were all the proof needed to remind them of my great-grandfather's transgressions. The small bumps on my forehead, barely visible through the fiery red hair; still slick with birthing fluids from my mother's womb, that would someday grow to be graceful horns. At the sight of my small lithe tail, my mother herself fainted.
The midwife was sworn to secrecy, and put on retainer to care for me. Though my parents would tell the world that their long awaited child was dead, before acknowledging my emergence into this hateful world; they didn't dare destroy the child born of their tainted bloodline for fear that some ancient demon might take offense and return to exact vengeance upon the house.
So they locked me away. I liked to pretend I was some long forgotten princess in a tower, under a hateful spell. That some day a prince would come and with a kiss banish the curse of my solid black eyes....the slender tail with the delicate point....and my blood red hair, hair that often held the slight aroma of brimstone when damp.
But it was not to be. I was my parents skeleton in the closet. The only people aware of my existence were my parents, if you could call them that, and the nurse maid. The other servants believed the upper floor of the west wing was haunted...or demon possessed. They would cringe in horror if they knew how close to the truth that was.
So I waited, and watched, and listened. I learned the draw the shadows to me and move about while others remained blissfully unaware of my existence. Until the day I was caught....but I've said enough for now....and that is a tale for another cold night.
And no, before you ask, I'll not tell you of which house I come from, for though they refuse to claim me, I also refuse to bring the shame of my birth upon them. I can leave you with this, however, you may call me Angelique, ironic I know...but my mother hoped to protect herself from the evil nature of my heritage by giving me that ridiculous name.