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Is that a threat or a promise.
Chapter one: mother knows best
Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I forget that I'm engaged. Even if it is only for a few seconds, it's still enough to shake my whole morning. But those few seconds have become my favorite part of my day. But six days ago when I woke up I thought it was a normal morning.
When I wake up in the morning and my long lashes at the ceiling I just lay there, prayin to whatever may be up above that mother forgets that I'm alive. I pray so hard I'm pretty sure it gives God a headache, a good one, but a headache none the less. Then again when you're screaming your prays at a God who stopped listening to you a long while ago, you tend to give yourself a headache, so I guess it evens out.
I sigh as I throw back the light sheet draped over my body to help trap the cool breeze that my room catches sometimes in the warm July air. I do this because I know if I'm not up with my sleep clothes off when my mother enters my room I'll have my ear chewed off for a good part of the morning, and after having that happen to mornings in a row, I learned to get up.
My bare feet seem to look smaller, I noted as I stared down at them. The pale white color of my skin makes me frown. It's been two weeks since I returned from New York with my father; I should be gaining some color. Shaking my head trying to get my focus on anything but the things my mother will be all too happy to point out to me in about half an hour and return it back to my night clothes. Sure there the fourth nicest night clothes in the town, or at least that's how I see it.
Things in Mystic Falls, Virginia are like clockwork. The more slaves you have, the more money you have. This is why when Mother finds extra money in the budget she goes out and purchases more slaves. Not that Daddy needs more help tending the cotton fields or anything we have six hundred helping hands to do that. It's a money thing, slaves mean money and money means slaves.
I strip myself of my night clothes and tossed them in the light pink basket next to my washroom door. I stare at my naked form in the mirror. I kind of see what my mother is talking about when she says I should start skipping midnight cookies and milk with my father. I'm not saying that I'm fat or anything because I'm not. My body is one of the few things I think my mother likes about me, because I know for a fact it's not my mind. She's always telling me 'Faya Washburn a woman should be seen not heard!'.
I poke the nonexistent fat on my thighs that my mother will yell at me about later. She's even more predictable than my grandmother, and that's saying something considerin' my grandmother hasn't said a word in over two years. Not since my brother ran off with the house maid and moved to New York to be a lawyer. How I envy him.
"Faya Marie! Why on earth are you standing there looking at yourself like that?" My mother snaps as she rushes into my room. I roll my eyes as she frantically circles around me with her nose three feet in the air. Another thing my Mother worries about- is marrying me off. But since I'm not gettin' married anytime soon, I really don't know why she's acting this way.
"Mother, what is your problem this morning?" I asked with a slight sigh. I really should learn to just leave my mother alone.
"Don't use that tone with me missy," my mother pokes my stomach and shakes her head. "What did I tell you about midnight cookies?" she shakes her head and I don't bother with a response. She'll just get more upset with me. Nala my chambermaid stands awkwardly in the corner opening her mouth and then closing it again. I know what she wants to say and I smile at her for it.
"Your Father- bless that man- has invited the Mikaelson over for breakfast this morning." I gasp in mock shock, I do this because I don't have a clue whose she's talking about, and I learned that that never goes over well either. "I know and now I have to make you look presentable."
"I look presentable every day Mother," I hissed slightly upset. It's not my fault that I have her unruly dark curly hair and my father's grey eyes. I should tell her this but Nala is shaking her head in the mirror at me. She's smirking, but still shaking her head none the less. I listen to Nala, she's the wisest woman I've ever talked to- I would say met but I've met a lot of women I've never talk to, and I like to be as truthful as I can.
"For heaven's sake Faya, do you want a husband?" she snapped running a comb through my hair. She stopped talking and I took that as God's response to my prays or at least as close he was willing to get without crossing my mother- I don't blame him for that one. My mother can be a very scary woman, on a good day, one a bad day you better hope she's not mad at you.
I go back to thinking about my mother's earlier statement, do I want a husband? I mean my best friend Elena Gilbert just married the oldest Salvatore son. She seems happy enough. And little Caroline Forbes was married to Tyler Lockwood two months ago and she seems happy with a child on the way. But then my mind wonders to my brother, who was supposed to marry Katherine Gilbert. Katherine Gilbert was or well she still is one of the few people my mother hates more than me. Katherine could do nothing right in my mother's eyes, and maybe she could do nothing right in my brother's eyes either.
"Nala make sure she puts on her nice dress." I frown at my mother's words as she hurries out of my room. All my dresses are nice, how in the world am I supposed to pick out my nice dress? Nala walks over and swipes my bangs away from my face and she looks down at me.
"Baby child," she states with the softest look in her eyes. Nala has been workin for my Mother since before I was born, Nala practically raised me. "Tell me you don't believe a thing your mother says to you about the way you," she narrowed her dark eyes at me as she continues to look at me real hard. I smile at her briefly before I respond.
"I try not to let it get to me," I tell her honestly. There's nothing else I can say and still be truthful with her. Nala nods her head before she walked over to my dresser and pulls open the doors. Inside lie dresses in the same colors as a candy shop. She pulls out a white and gold one I've never seen before. I shake my head at it slightly as I walk over to the other dresser. I pull out my under clothes and put them on quickly. My cool body instantly warms up underneath the warm silky fabric. This particular pair of under clothes is considered scandalous underclothes, since the fabric stops at my thighs and doesn't end at my ankles. The top is more of a halter I guess you could say, it wraps around my breasts to hold itself up. Nala walks over to me and shows me a soft pink gown, the fabric will stop at my knees and it'll hug my shoulders the way my mother thinks is attractive to young men. I sigh but agree anyways. It'll be easier to just go with what Mother wants, than trying anything else.
"Nala why is it my mother fusses so much over me?" I ask slightly curious about my mother.
"She just care about ya, that's all Baby child." I frown slightly at her response. But I know better than to ask her again.
Once I'm presentable I start for the stairs. It's a steep set of stairs that Daddy keeps telling Mother she needs to have replaced—but like I said mother spends all the extra money on slaves. I reach the main floor and I walk barefoot into the main sitting room. I ignore my Mother's shrill laughter and continue on past her into the kitchen to steal a blueberry muffin. It's tradition in the morning that I deal with my mother and then I get ready and walk down to my Father's study and say good morning. I walk down the narrow hallway and knock once on my father's door.
"Come in Faya," he says quickly. I enter to find three strange men in my Father's office. I smile at them briefly while I walk around my father's desk and stand beside him like I always do. My father is a great man, he has broad shoulder and a thick body, but not in the thick fat way. He had thick black eyebrows that always move into a swiggle when he's upset. My father has a large mouth that he uses often when mother gets mad at him for selling another one of the slaves.
My father tickles my left side quickly as I giggle in response. Father than stands and wraps his strong arms around me. I hug him back and kiss his check softly before I mumble good morning and hand him the stolen blueberry muffin. He smiles quickly and kisses my check before shoeing me out of his office. I smile once again at the three men who watched our display of affection as I walk out.
"Faya come here please?" my mother calls quickly once I get the study door shut behind me. I sigh knowing this will mean a good hour of questions being thrown at me by another high class woman debating whether or not I'm good enough to marry her son.
I walk into the living room with a soft smile on my face. A kind looking woman smiles at me as I enter. She has a very blond girl about my age sitting next to her. I smile at them both as I take the seat next to my mother.
"Your mother tells us great things about you," The woman smiles as I look at my mother, she never had anything nice to say to me, but as soon as we get around other people I become God's gift to the world. Very confusing sometimes.
"Really, that's very kind of her." I state off handedly. I'm used to this, my mother will gush about how wonderful I am, and tell this woman things I didn't even know about myself. Like the last time we had guests I was a wonderful cook, and I'm pretty sure I burned water the last time I tried to cook anything.
"She also tells me you create most of your own clothes," The younger girl states with a small smile.
"My mother seems to be filled with information these days," My mother elbows me in the ribs telling me to shut up. I do quickly and the young girl smiles a knowing smile. She stands and my mother nods allowing me to follow her. She probably thinks I'll stay out of trouble this way.
"How many people has your mother invited over?" the blond girl asks when we step far enough away. I sigh trying to count them all.
"To many to count on one hand," I say slightly as I lead her out to the court yard. She smiled as she takes a seat on the only bench out here.
"My mother doesn't seem interested with me yet, she's too busy marrying off my brothers, I only have two left that aren't married." I laugh at this. The girl looks at me as I laugh. She soon starts laughing too.
"I'm Rebekah." She says as we quite down. I nod to let her know I heard her. We sit like this for a while, just listening to the distant sounds of the slaves workin' the fields and birds singing in the sky.
"We should return before my mother tells your mother that I can cook." I shake my head slightly that got a giggle out of Rebekah. We return to the living room with smiles on our faces and giggles leaving our lips. I like Rebekah maybe as much as I like Elena, and Elena is my best friend. When we fully enter the living room I notice that the three men from my father's office have joined the mothers in the living room. My father smiles at me and winks as I take my seat next to my mother.
"What on earth got you girls in such a fit?" my father asks with an amused smile. I glance at my mother who looks like she's about to cry.
"Nothing," Rebekah and I say at the same time. We share a knowing smile at our mothers' discomfort. The men in the room chuckle as Minny enter the room to tell us that breakfast has been placed on the table. The eight of us make our way into the dining hall; the two elder men take the heads of the table with their wives at their side. I take a seat one my father's other side. Rebekah next to me and the two boys on the other side of the table next to my mother empty. And the seat on Mr. Mikaelson empty.
"Faya your mother told us so much about you why don't you tell us a little bit?" I smile at the woman and take a peek at my mother. She didn't prep me with anything to tell this woman, it looks like I'm on my own.
"There's not much to tell really," I state as I place my napkin in my lap. The table is quite for a minute before my mother starts to laugh.
"She's joking Esther." My mother glares at me while she rubs butter on her bread. I try not to let the discomfort I'm feeling show on my face. "Faya does many things-" she turns her attention to me, "Don't you?" she asked with a pained expression on her face.
"Mother I'm not feeling well," I state as I stand up I turn to Esther and smile. "Do you mind if we talk in the study?" I ask slightly scared at her response. She smiles and stands. We both walk around the table and I lead the way to my father's study.
"Your mother is intense," Esther says while she takes a seat. Her blue eyes are fixed on me and it makes me feel a little out of place.
"She just wants me to do well," I say taking me seat quickly. Esther laughs quickly before she leans forward closer to me.
"Tell me about you," she says slightly more relaxed than she was in the dining hall.
"I paint." I tell her slightly surprised at myself. "I mean, I used to pain before my brother left for New York." Esther nods her head and smiles.
"You look uncomfortable around food." She states with a frown, "Are you afraid to eat?" I laugh at this. Because it's so far from the truth.
"It's because I don't know how the cook does it." Esther looks at me quickly before she smiles.
"Your mother said you could cook, you can't can you?" I shake my head no and look down. This is the first time I've ever told the truth to someone about my mother's lies. Mostly because I'm never asked if their true.
"Why the study?" she asks leaning back.
"I feel safe," I can tell her this without upsetting my mother, "It's the only room in the house my mother refuses to enter." Or maybe I can't. Esther smiles as she stands back up.
"I'm famished shall we go join the rest of them." I nod but I don't get up. Instead I play with one of the many dark curls around my shoulder. Esther doesn't look back at me so I know I'm okay for a minute. I take this time to control my breathing. I have never met a woman like her before. A woman who scares me more than my mother does, and not even for the things she says, it's all about what she didn't say.
I will have to write to Elena and tell her about this magnificent woman who scares me more than my mother does. It will make her laugh I just know it.
After about ten minutes I stand and made my way back to the dining hall. I take my seat and began to pick at my food. My father says something to me but I don't hear what it is. I just know I've screwed this up. I just know it.
"Faya why on earth are you acting like this?" my mother snaps slamming her hands on the table. My father groans slightly while trying to get her to stop.
"Mongolia please just leave the girl alone."
"Richard I need to know why she's acting like this!" she exclaimed slightly perplexed with my father.
"She's not acting like anything!" Father snaps his normal light mood drained. I turn in my chair and lean over to Rebekah.
"Follow me," I stand quickly while my mother and father continue to scream at each other. I nod at the rest of her family to follow as well. We leave the dining hall on the way I spot Minny.
"Breakfast was wonderful Minny, mother and father will need a minuet." I lead the Mikaelson family back into the main room. I take a seat and wait for the rest of them to do the same.
"Faya do your parents fight often."
"Ever since Canon left for New York." I state with a nod. Esther and I along with Rebekah get in a heated discussion surrounding our favorite spots to walk in the hot sun. Mikael and his sons kept glancing at me every time I opened my mouth; we sat like this until it was time for them to leave. I smiled and said my goodbyes. Once they were gone I made my way back up to my room. I stripped of my nice dress and climbed back into bed.
Nala was the only one to visit me for most of the day. Around bed time when I had just changed into my night clothes mother walked in without knocking. The only times she does that is when I have screwed up another husband prospect. But tonight she's smiling.
"Faya Marie Washburn you are engaged!"
"What?" I asked slightly confused.
"To Klaus Mikaelson!" she squealed wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I stand there not responding to shocked to say anything. "You did it, my baby did it."
All that comes after the ten seconds of single-ism. And now instead of begging God for mother to forget that I'm alive up here in my room is that he changes the one little fact about my life. It's been two days, it has yet to happen. I don't think it will.