AN: So I was just listening to Trapeze by Dia Frampton when this came into my head. It's just a little oneshot of Daine's childhood. Oh, and if you're one of my "Love" readers, I have a case of writer's block that could swallow the world, so I'm struggling through right now.
Disclaimer: I just own the plot.
"Mommy?" Daine asked, peeking up at her mother through long lashes, watching her silently as she cooked.
"Yes, Daine?" Sarra asked, distracted as she stirred the soup, careful not to let it boil over.
"Can I go and play with the other children?" Daine asked very quietly, swinging her skirt around her ankles as she asked.
That got Sarra's attention. Her Daine had tried to make friends so many times, and each time she came home, tiny tears sparkling in her eyes, occasionally with a scrape or two. It hurt Sarra as she bandaged the wounds and soothed her. She always wished she could offer more than a hug and a kiss along with whatever sweets she could spare some money to buy. A tug on her skirt reminded her that Daine was still waiting for an answer. "Of course darling." She said.
With that, Daine dashed outside. Sarra looked after the tiny figure sadly, still stirring the stew, sadly wishing that Weiryn was here to be a father for Daine.
Daine approached two girls playing a game of hopscotch, giggling as they tossed the stone and hopped along the patterns in the dirt, obviously drawn clumsily with a twig. As soon as they realized that Daine was watching they stopped, becoming colder. Even the children thought the bastard beneath them. The girls walked away, scuffing the pattern in the ground, backs turned purposefully towards Daine, oozing scorn. Sadly, Daine went over to the dirt and picked up the stone, still warm from the girls' hands, half-heartedly tossing it away, wishing she had been born normal. Childish shrieks sounded as the children started a rough game of tag started. Daine didn't try to join in this time, knowing she would be turned away. How could she have even fooled herself into thinking that she could ever belong? She just sat down on a tree stump, absent mindedly petting a couple of squirrels as she gazed up at the dark clouds congregating above her in the sky, lighting flashing inside of them. A warm hand patted her shoulder and Daine sighed as she was gathered into the warm embrace of her mother. "Are you proud of who I am ma?" She asked her mother softly as Sarra led her towards their small house.
"What?" Sarra asked, shocked. "Of course you are, sweetheart, I wouldn't trade you for anyone else." She reassured her, letting her blinding love shine through in her wards and eyes.
"Are you sure?" Daine asked sadly.
"Veralidaine Sarrasri," Sarra said sternly, setting her hands on her hips, the very image of motherly disapproval. "You listen to me. All those other folks don't mean a thing as long as you're proud of who you are. You're a considerate young girl, intelligent and hardworking. What's wrong with that? Your birth doesn't determine who you are, and those who think it does aren't worth your time. I'm always proud of my little Daine, remember that."
Little Daine nodded solemnly, and committed the words to memory. And so they stayed with her throughout her life, as people like Yolan and other stuffy couriers gazed at her with scorn. It rung in her head every time she uttered her surname, refusing to bow down in shame like they expected her to. Such was the childhood of Veralidaine Sarrasri, a girl who refused to feel shame for her birth, and rose in the world to become an idol for all the other fatherless children.