A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to say that this is my first attempt at FanFiction, I have been RPing these characters for quite awhile, and so I decided that it was about time to give Artemisia her own story. I plan on updating this at least once every week, most likely on the weekends. As always, reviews are appreciated :)
Disclaimer: Only the plot and original characters belong to me (sadly...)
Chapter 1
December 11, 1990
Regina Susvere had just gone into labor, her husband, Marcus, was not present. He, like the others of the Inner Circle, had been attending meetings faithfully, waiting for their master's return. Regina had gotten used to it, but it still hurt not to have him near. After all, if she managed to give him a son, it might restore her favor in his eyes. She had opted out of learning her baby's sex months ago because in the event it was a girl, she feared Marcus would make her abort the baby. She knew that after this pregnancy, she would be rendered unfertile. No one really knew why, it seemed she was just unlucky. This meant that she had only one chance to gain her husband's approval, and he wanted a son.
Regina cried out in pain as another contraction hit her. The mediwitch assigned to her came to her side, wiping the sweat off of Regina's forehead, and giving her another pain potion. The mediwitch was a nice lady, very maternal. She had frowned when Regina had told her that her husband was busy and wasn't coming, the witch had felt that it was a husband's duty to stand by his wife as she gave birth. Clearly, Marcus didn't think so.
"Okay, you're about ten centimeters dilated, so go ahead and start pushing." The mediwitch said, calling over the midwife. As the midwife prepared to deliver the baby, the mediwitch held Regina's hand as she began to push.
"Come on, you're almost there! Just a little bit more!" She encouraged, "You can do it! Keep breathing…now push!"
Regina shrieked in pain as the head of the baby pushed out. She took several shallow breaths and pushed again, the baby's shoulders now clear. One more strong push later, and it was over.
"Good job, ma'am! You've done it!" The mediwitch said, as she pushed down on Regina's abdomen to deliver the placenta.
"What…what is it…?" Regina asked weakly, her voice barely audible over the shrill cries of her child.
"A girl, ma'am! A beautiful, healthy, baby girl!" The witch exclaimed, bringing the child to her mother. "What's her name?"
Regina sadly looked at the bundle of blankets that held her child, the child that she knew would not be welcome in this world.
"Her name is Artemisia, Artemisia Susvere." She said, and extended her arms to receive her daughter. As her face came into view, Regina gasped. Her daughter was the perfect combination of her mother and father; Marcus would not be pleased.
~o~O~o~
September 22, 1998
Artemisia was tired of lessons. Her Uncle Rowen was a perfectly fine instructor, but Artemisia was restless. She wanted to go and play with her cousin, Adelia, but her father had made it perfectly clear that, "No child of mine, no matter how useless and undesired, will forego their education." Artemisia sighed, she knew her father detested her, but she could never understand why. Despite how hard she had tried at her lessons, despite her trying to learn about magic early, nothing seemed to please him. So she had long since given up.
"Please, Uncle Rowen, can't we take a break?" Artemisia pleaded, "I can't concentrate."
He sighed, and agreed, "Very well, we'll resume tomorrow, but only if you promise to focus more on your lessons then."
"Oh yes, Uncle! Of course I will! Thank you!" And with that, Artemisia ran off to find her favorite cousin.
~o~O~o~
"Adelia! What shall we do today?" Artemisia asked her excitedly, "Shall we go to the library and see if we can find more potions books?" Artemisia had been fascinated with potions since she first came upon one of her mother's old textbooks when she was five. Ever since, she had been reading as much about it as possible.
"Very well, Misi, let's see if your parent's library has more secrets to share with us." Adelia readily agreed. She was thirteen, five years older than Artemisia, and had already started attending the Nepal Academy for Witches and Wizards. Artemisia was to attend as well once she turned eleven.
Her family's ancestors had built their ancestral home, Susvere Manor, deep within the confines of the Himalayan Mountain. It was only accessible through apparition, and very few people had ever been there. It was also guarded by the Fidelis charm, and as a result, only her family could even see the house.
Artemisia and Adelia made their way to the library, and walked to the very back, where most of the potions books were located. They pulled out several old tomes that looked promising and sat cross-legged on the floor to read.
"I heard Father yelling at Mamma again last night." Artemisia began slowly, breaking the silence. "It keeps happening more and more often…I'm worried, Adi. I keep thinking something bad is going to happen."
"I'm sorry, Misi. What were they fighting about this time? Do you know?" She asked.
"I covered my ears for most of it, but in the beginning I heard Father say that Mamma was a cheap whore, but I don't know what that means. I don't think it was a good thing though, because then Mamma said that she was sorry and she had no idea how it happened, but it had only been one time. That got me real confused because she was making no sense. What was only one time? Anyway, then he started yelling about me, saying that I was nothing to him and that I was lucky he didn't just kill me on the spot…" Artemisia's voice drifted off as her throat became constricted with tears. When she couldn't hold them in any longer, she broke out into full sobs, covering her face in her hands.
Adelia moved closer to her and leaned her against her chest, rocking her back and forth.
"It's okay, Misi, everything is going to be alright…shhh…."
"B-but he wants to k-kill me…"
"I'm sure he didn't mean that…people say things they don't mean when they're angry…"
"But he was using his serious voice! He did mean it! He doesn't love me…"
Adelia said nothing to that. Marcus' feelings about his daughter were common knowledge. Everyone knew that he had wanted a son. Unfortunately, there were complications surrounding her birth, making her mother infertile, and her father had always blamed his only child. Artemisia had grown up knowing that her father hated her, and her mother had always tried to compensate for it, and practically smothered her with affection, material belongings, and everything her heart could want. No one seemed to realize that all she wanted was her father's approval.
October 31, 1999
"Artemisia! Come here, we need to speak to you" Regina called from the Sitting Room.
Artemisia came running down the stairs, nearly colliding with Rowen, whose eyes were red from crying.
"What's the matter, Uncle? Are you okay?" She asked, before being dragged into the Sitting Room by her father.
"We figured since your dear cousin Adelia was your friend," He sneered, "We ought to tell you that she was murdered today, three hours ago."
"Merlin, Marcus! Could you not employ a bit more tact! She's only nine years old!" Regina protested, Rowen nodding behind her.
"No, she may be a child now, but she must grow up sometime." Interjected Nicolas, Marcus' father.
During their discussion, no one noticed that Artemisia sank to the floor, knees cradled against her chest, as silent tears made their way down her porcelain cheeks. When someone finally did notice, not a single kind word was spared for her.
"Artemisia! Get up off that floor this instant! And wipe your damn tears, girl. Don't you know that crying makes a person weak!" Her father yelled, "What have I always told you?"
"Never show more emotion than you have to, and never give up all the information you possess."
"Exactly, now we didn't tell you so you'd quit functioning, so quit whining and go about your day."
Artemisia spent the rest of the week in her room, skipping meals and unable to sleep. She would try to, but all she could think of was that the only person who she could actually relate to and talk to was now gone. She felt so alone, as if she had been stranded on a strange and unfamiliar planet.
Eventually she came out looking sickly thin, and her face had taken on an unnatural pallor. She refused to talk to anyone, resorting only to head shakes, nods, and shrugs, to communicate. She did well in her lessons, but then again she no longer had the prospects of fun to distract her. She avoided the library at all costs. The first time she had tried to go in there she had burst into tears and then ran back to her room, burying herself in the blankets on her bed. She had stayed there the rest of the day.
By the time the anniversary of her cousin's death came around, she had made significant progress. She would now speak, eat and sleep, albeit scarcely. She would not speak unless spoken to, choosing to hide behind the curtain of long, raven hair that hung limply on either side of her face. She never ate more than she had to, but she had lost her waxy complexion, and almost looked healthy. She still refused to venture into the library, but she at least had not rejected all things having to do with potions
November 10, 2000
Artemisia could hear her parents fighting in the drawing room again. She sighed inwardly, and scurried to her room, trying to remain undetected. She sat in the corner furthest from the door and drew her knees close to her chest. She covered her ears with her hands and slowly began to rock back and forth, humming to herself. she denied herself the luxury of crying, having been conditioned to believe that crying was nothing more than a weakness.
She eventually heard the yelling stop, and after waiting a few minutes, decided to inspect the aftermath of her parents' fight. She hoped no one was injured again. Their last fight ended with several powerful healing spells and potions, and she was sure they were running out. Apprehensive, she peeked around the door frame into the drawing room, and gasped audibly. Her mother was sprawled across the floor, her eyes blank and expressionless. Artemisia's knees trembled as she struggled to remain upright. No! she screamed inwardly, It can't be! Oh mother...mother... She fought hard to rein in her tears, which threatened to betray her presence. Her father was facing away from her, looking out the window, wand still drawn. Without warning, a single sob escaped her, and she clamped her hand down on her mouth instinctively. Her father whirled around, his expression murderous (no pun intended).
"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice too quiet, given the situation. "Get out." He said. Artemisia froze. She couldn't move if she wanted to.
"I said...GET OUT!" He bellowed. Artemisia forced herself to turn and run down the hall, her tears finally spilling over.
She ran outside, only to find a full-fledged blizzard threatening to blow her off the map. She welcomed it, grateful for the numbness that spread over her as the cold bit into her clothes. It was better than the all-consuming anguish she felt. Sure, she had never been especially close to her mother, but she had loved her, and had been loved by her, which was more than the murderer inside could claim.
She lay in the snow, unable to think, unable to feel. It would be the only time she could claim to be truly at peace. As the cold began to claim her, she slipped willingly into the darkness that beckoned to her.
Her calm, however, was short-lived, as a steely grip grabbed her arm and wrenched her from the ground, effectively destroying her all-consuming fantasy. Her father pulled her back inside to the place that had been her prison for almost 11 years. She knew her life would never be the same, and she grimaced at how cliché that sounded. Nevertheless, she was once again, alone.
