Chapter 2

The Slums of Nohr

~~~Many, Many years ago~~~

An old woman and a young girl walked hand-in-hand in the dimly lit streets of the slums. Dusk fell quickly, and a cold night took its place. The pair stayed close – the old lady protecting her young child from possible threats.

The old woman was dressed in black robes – she looked like a nun.

The girl appeared to be six or seven – not much older than that, wearing a pink dress. She hummed quietly, though her companion hushed her.

"Don't draw unwanted attention, my dear . . . We aren't safe here," She reminded softly. There was an aura of calm around the old woman, but she also feared for their safety.

As they walked, they were nearing an alleyway. The woman pushed the girl toward the open side – a hill ran down toward a small river. No one could be hiding in that scene, but many monsters lurk in the alleys at night, hunting for unwitting pray.

As they passed the alley, they heard a woman screech – a long and terrifying wail that echoed and bounced in the narrow alley.

The old woman bit her lip. Her young child was her top priority – but it was against her policy to let the suffering of people go unattended, especially women. For all she knew, it could be a young companion in her care that is being misused by a man – a human turned monster by their inescapable fate.

"Grandmother," She tugged on the hand of the old woman lightly, "What . . . what should we do?" The young girl was spooked, but equally empathetic.

"Stay close, Éponine," Her grandmother said, pulling out a knife, "This could get ugly. Here, take this to defend yourself," She handed the knife to her, as well as a vial, "That is a poison. Throw it into the eyes of anyone who gets too close to you."

"Y-Yes . . ." Éponine nodded, then followed her grandmother into the alley. The woman screamed again, followed by, "GODS, WHY?" She sounded like she was going through terrible suffering. The old woman paused, then called out, "Darling, are you okay? Are you alone?"

"Who – Who's there?" They heard panting and slight whimpering.

"I am a friend. I mean you know harm . . . I ask again – are you alone?"

"Yes . . . Yes, I'm alone," She sobbed.

"What is wrong, child? Where are you?" The old woman did not drop her guard – this could still be a ruse – an elusive trap to foolish, sympathetic people. Yet, there was none more foolish than the old lady, who still had a bleeding heart after many years of suffering and pain.

"I'm . . . I'm right here," The voice called. The old lady finally found her – a lone woman, sitting on the ground with her back to the building. There were tears streaming down her face and . . . a round stomach, clenched by the woman's arms.

"You're going through labor pains, aren't you?" The old woman recognized this scene all too perfectly. A young, pregnant woman – abandoned by the man who impregnated her and by the family who did not want another baby – alone to fend for herself in the harsh reality of this town.

"Can you stand? If I get you to my home, I can help you . . ." She reached out to assist the woman.

"I can't . . . I can't have a baby . . . I can't . . ." The woman shook violently, "I can't . . ." She was beginning to enter into the early stages of hysteria – of fear and panic.

"Honey, calm down. Try to breathe. Inhale, exhale . . . Clear your mind. Can you tell me your name?" The hysterical woman was dark skinned with dark blue eyes and white hair.

"Ceana," She said softly.

"Ceana. My name is Evania, this is Éponine. Come now, love, let us get you to somewhere safe. If we linger here, we will most certainly run into trouble. Come with me, child."

The old woman supported Ceana and beckoned Eponine to follow her out of the alleyway and back into the open.

The woman shrieked in pain when Evania pulled her up, then wrapped her arm around her back.

"Th – Thank you . . ." Ceana said, holding back the pain to the best of her abilities.

"We have a walk ahead of us . . . If we can make it to my home, then we should be fine. If not, we will have to use the river to our advantage . . ."

"Where do you live?" Ceana asked.

"In the Red Light District," The woman answered.

"The – The Red Light . . . But then, you're a . . .?"

"I run the Brothel, yes. The women in my care are all companions."

"I . . . I see. I mistook you for a nun . . ."

"Hahaha! I have had many walks of life – I'm old enough to have done so! My main concern is to try and care for as many people as possible. I will do the same for you . . . Now, relax child . . . we have a ways to go still."

Present Day – Fancy Estate

Niles waited for an answer – a long explanation as to what actually happened in the past, though he was starting to see the bigger picture. Éponine, meanwhile, was thinking about how the two of them first met – no, that's not right . . . How she met the young child of Ceana . . . and would not see either of them for many, many years.

~~~ Red Light District: Many Years Ago ~~~

Éponine and her grandmother safely escorted Ceana to their Brothel, where they immediately took action. Evania took her to the nearest open room and laid her down, then got some of the other girls to prepare a few things. Evania shooed Éponine, who watched from the doorway.

The next few hours were chaotic – Ceana screamed a lot – her painful cries shook the entire building and disturbed some of the customers. They complained, but only received an earful from Evania.

"This is what happens when you fools don't use protection properly. Women get pregnant – that's what happens when you carelessly have sex. Don't get pissy when nature takes its course."

She had a bat in hand, however, and if anyone else complained they knew she would use it. They decided to drop it and go about their business – some left, some stayed, but it didn't matter either way.

When her screams finally died down the tension broke. There was a new sound – a new scream – that of an infant baby. Éponine wandered back in the room, waiting curiously to see the baby.

The mother breathed heavily, looking away from Evania and the child, whom her grandmother affectionately cleaned up.

"I can't . . . I can't be a mother . . ." Ceana repeated again, "I don't want to be . . ."

"If you stay here, the burden of motherhood would be lifted," Evania spoke calmly, "It is a daunting task – feeding oneself and feeding another. It can be done and we are all family here. We will take care of you and your son."

"Son . . .! Haha . . . Hahaha . . . Another . . . monster . . . Why couldn't it have been a girl? A girl I could have loved . . . a girl I could have . . . understood . . . but it's a boy . . ."

"Not all men are monsters. They are made that way, they aren't born that way. A loving hand and guidance will shape his future. If you choose to, you could find a way to love him and guide him to being a man of honor and dignity – if you throw him away . . . and he survives the ordeal . . . you will make him into your worst fears."

"Shut up . . . I don't want any of your philosophical bull shit. What nun . . . what nun runs a whore house? Why would I . . . want to stay . . . and service those . . . PIGS!" Ceana spat.

"Look at him. He's innocent," Evania held out the child, who calmed down some.

"I don't want to," She shook her head, "You can't make me . . ."

"At least try. Look at him. Give him a name. You might just find it hard to believe you once thought having a son was such a horrible fate. You might just come to enjoy your new role as mother. Give him a name. Try to bond with him."

"No," She refused, looking out the window and distancing herself from the child and from Evania. Éponine found herself getting frustrated. She stepped inside the room and was about to say something, but Evania beat her, "Éponine. You shouldn't be here right now."

"But she – "

"She is in a difficult position. One I hope you never have to face, dear," Evania, while cradling the young boy in one arm, took her free hand and held her granddaughter's chin.

Éponine looked at the small thing – new born babies weren't much to look at; they were covered in their mother's fluids and so wrinkly. They were far from cute, but after a while, they start becoming adorable.

"What's his name?" She asked loudly; deliberately. Evania sighed – Éponine wasn't going to drop this, was she? Not that she expected much different. Such a strong spirit . . .

Ceana glanced at Éponine – did she have it in her to refuse a young girl?

Éponine's eyes met with Ceana's . . . Such a fierce young girl . . .

Ceana sighed, then looked at the baby, finally acknowledging its existence outside of her womb, ". . . Niles . . ."

"You're naming him Niles?" Evania asked.

". . . Yes," Ceana looked away again, this time at the ceiling.

"I will let you rest. If you want your child, have one of the girls come by and get me. For now, I will be taking him somewhere to rest," Evania instructed, "Come on, Éponine." Eponine followed her grandmother out the room and took baby Niles to a different room.

Their presence in the whore house was short lived . . . Ceana decided to take the child and move out elsewhere, for a time . . . She refused to be a whore. She refused to service men. And yet, at the end of it all, she also refused to be a mother.

~~~Present Day – Fancy Estate~~~

"Where do I even begin?" Éponine laughed sadly, "I suppose the easiest explanation is I got careless and knocked up. It wasn't intentional, by any means, but . . . it happened. My grandmother died and my father took over her Brothel. He did those horrible things . . . and I panicked. For the first time in my life, I was truly scared beyond utter belief. It was apparent that he cared very little for my feelings . . . and even less for my well-being. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he would kill my baby had he known, so the only choice I had was to leave. I had to leave before my pregnancy slowed me down. I had to make sure there was a place for her to grow up . . . loved . . . with a family . . . safe. I couldn't have any of that with my father."

"I understand that," Niles said, "But why did you keep it all a secret from me? Did you really not trust me that much?"

"As I said . . . there was a good chance that your new role would have only left you bitter. I've seen it before, countless times. I . . . couldn't take that chance with you."

"So you left me in the dark, instead?" Niles frowned.

"And if you came with me?" Éponine asked, "You wouldn't have felt even more manipulated into raising a child that you probably didn't want – you probably would have felt restrained and would have hated us both more than you do now."

"I never hated you! I'm pissed off, but . . ."

"Think back to who you were. You were a young teenager, not much older than Nina is now. Are you telling me that you could have willingly come with me, knowing you would be raising a child, and a life of uncertainty awaited us all? Are you telling me that you wouldn't have felt that all of your dreams would have died the moment you realized that your path was narrowed to one? Raise a child and follow my ambitions, not yours? I chose a nurturing role – I always wanted to be a mother. I had my own ambitions to follow . . . are you saying that if I told you the truth and had you come with me, that you wouldn't be angry?"

"I had a right to know all of this," Niles said, dodging the question. A nagging voice in his head told him she was right, as much as he wanted to deny it. If he had to raise a child NOW, that would be different . . . it would be welcomed . . . but back then . . .

"Perhaps you did. And I wanted to. I wanted you to be all right with this new scenario. But I had other things looming down my back and I had to make very quick decisions. The moment I realized that I was pregnant . . . was the moment I had to abandon that old life to preserve hers. Nina . . . was the only thing that mattered."

Niles closed his eye. He started to agree with her, though he wanted to protest. He wanted to be angry with her, but he began to realize her choices were well founded . . . He was probably dead weight, once again . . .

"There was another angle to consider. While your feelings did matter and there was a chance you would have accepted the situation more willingly than I anticipated, there was another reason – THE reason I chose to not include you in and inform you . . . was my father. When I left, I figured he would come after me. Had you chosen to stay behind and knew of my whereabouts and my situation, he might have been able to gain information that way."

"As if I would have told him anything," Niles interrupted, "Why would you think that I would sell you out like that!?"

"You wouldn't have needed to. The way I left you seemed like a betrayal. Perhaps it was. That energy was with you this entire time – your emotions gave you away. Had you known my reasons, that would have only made you a suspect. They would have followed you, questioned you . . . they probably would have thrown you out on gut instinct alone."

"So you're saying . . .?"

"Your anger toward me made took their gaze off of you and onto attempting finding my trail through other means. If you weren't angry because you knew what I was doing, that would have cast their gaze onto you. If I kept an open flow of communication with you, it would have found its way back to my father somehow. And you would have either been thrown out or killed. Killed being the more likely of the two . . . since you would have had to lie to my father to keep my whereabouts safe."

Niles took in everything Éponine said . . .

"There was nothing to gain from you, as you knew nothing . . . It was not the only path I could have gone down, but . . . it was the safest," Éponine sighed, "My only goal was to keep the both of you alive – your feelings were not spared in the process, and for that I am really sorry, but you are still alive. And you've led a life you can be happy with . . ."

They fell silent once more. Nina carefully listened to her parents' discussion and began formulating her opinions. Her mother was more occupied explaining things than punishing her – Nina figured if she could just sit quietly enough, they would be too distracted to remember that she was in trouble.

Éponine was thought in the past, thinking of their shared lives – their shared hells. Niles found himself doing the same thing. A lot of his past was shrouded in mystery – Though, admittedly, he could figure out who his mother is. Beruka found her mother's gravesite, as well as Niles' mother. He could never bring himself to visit . . . But there was more to the story than he knew.

~~~ Slums of Nohr – 2 Years After Niles was Born~~~

Ceana waited underneath a building for a certain someone to come by and greet her. She was covered in a hooded robe to protect herself from a heavy, pouring rain. She looked down at her feet – a young boy sat on the ground, less than covered, looking at the building.

The brick was crumbling from age and the relentless downfall did nothing to help its cause.

Ceana tapped her foot anxiously – she wanted nothing more than to hurry this visit up and be on her way. She looked out to the streets, waiting for a man to come her way.

The boy was getting hit by the rain that splashed on the ground – he protested but his mother only hushed him.

"It'll be just a few more minutes," She said with a hiss, "Shut up until then."

The child said nothing after that, only sat in the flooded ground. Ceana grumbled as her feet got wet, not caring what happened to her child. The boy could barely walk or talk at that point. He could vocalize a little bit, but not enough to hold a conversation with him.

(If the rain picked up and washed him away, then there would be absolutely nothing I could do about it.) She thought to herself, almost wishing it would, just for that sake.

She kept watching for that man she was supposed to meet. What a god awful day for this to happen. She could still be sitting at home by a warm fire . . . but this could not wait . . .

Maybe the rain was keeping him. She sighed heavily.

"I'm going to catch hypothermia at this rate," She grumbled, "Damn it, hurry up."

She finally saw who she was waiting for – through the rain, it was hard to see, but a silhouette of a man limping with a cane came towards her.

He was clearly disfigured from the way he walked and the outline of his body. Once he was close enough, he bowed. His face was covered in warts and his back was humped, slumping him over and making him appear shorter than he actually should have been.

"Greetings, ma'am. I'm guessing he's the tyke, eh?" He pointed at the young boy at her feet, "Cover him up! Don't want him getting cold."

"You got a spare blanket? His is soaked," She said cooly.

"Aye, back in my house," He climbed the stairs of the building they were standing under, "Woulda been here sooner, damn rain slowed me down. Hurry, hurry! Don't want the lad to fall sick." Ceana rolled her eyes, then picked up her child. She held him away from her body, his front facing the man.

Once inside, the man hobbled toward the room to the left. The house was dark, as there were no candles lit. The room to the right was a junk room – junk upon junk piled on top of itself.

She followed behind closely, really wanting this meeting to end so she can go back home and relax. He sat down at the table and pointed, "There's some towels behind ya. Wipe the boy dry, and we can get to discussing."

She did as he requested, sat the child down, and grabbed a towel to dry him off. She wrapped him in it once she finished. While she did that, he lit a candle on a side table. Ceana then took a seat.

"What's his name?" He asked. She huffed, then dug into a bag beneath her robes. She slid a folder toward him.

"All you need to know is in there," She said plainly.

He opened the folder – it was birth documents that she filed and copied, as well as some medical notes and the like.

"My name is nowhere in those. I had them all removed . . . no trace of it should remain."

"Hmm . . . Hmm, Hmm, Hmm! Gotcha, darling. Well, then, let's take a look here," He got up and took a closer look at the boy.

"Such a wondrous form . . . such . . . a good buy . . . Very well, I will hand this to you," He turned around and searched for something in his drawers, throwing miscellaneous garbage each different way. She looked around – his house was filthy. Here he was, one of the richer men she dealt with . . . Who knew what kind of "work" he did to earn a home and a deed. Many freaks lived in this neighborhood, though, so Ceana wasn't so surprised.

"Aha ha ha! Here we are!" He grabbed a bag of coin and sat it on the table. The bag opened slightly, and gold pieces slipped from the bag.

The boy watched the bag, then the man, but had no visual of his mother . . .

"Just sign this here, and we can go about our business," He slapped a piece of paper on the table and slid it toward the woman.

As she signed, the young boy saw a field mouse scurry across the floor, then climbed on top of a fallen brick. The rain was still falling.

The young boy licked his lips – the rain kept falling and splashing in his face, making is face really chapped. From the cracks in his lips, small drops of blood fell into his mouth. The metallic taste was unfamiliar to the child – but it would be a taste that stuck with him for many, many years in the future.

"Are we finished here, Mr. Elbegast?"

The disfigured man read the document she signed carefully. He laughed, "Do you know how to read, dear?"

"What do you mean? Of course I do."

"Don'tcha know never sign a binding contract without first reading the print? In you rush to surrender the rights to your child, you made a fatal mistake by not reading the fine print. I owe you . . . nothing! Heeheehee!"

"What?" She snatched the parchment from the man's hand.

"And even worse, you sold your service to me. You are now my servant. Isn't life just so much fun! Hahaha!"

"No . . . 'I hereby give myself to Auberon Earnen Elbegast for the next five years as both a dependent and a servant and expect no compensation [Other than guaranteed food and roofing for the duration of the contract] in return. I surrender all my possessions – property deeds, assets, worldly goods, personal affects, and dependents to my Master.'? What is this? I was supposed to sell my son to you, not myself!"

"Oh no, no, no! You sold your time and your possessions to me, as well as your child. That's what a 'dependent' is, darling. Dependent – someone who depends on you. As your child belongs to you, he now belongs to me. Anything in your name belongs to me. You belong to me for five years. Then I will cast you back into the slums and you get to start. All. Over. Heehee, doesn't that sound fun? Or if you don't want to be left with nothing, I can add an additional five years once yours is elapsed," He gracefully took the parchment back from Ceana.

"WHAT? No, this is bull shit! I refuse to acknowledge this as a legitimate contract. The courts will throw it out."

"Oh ho ho! Will they, now? And with what money will you get a lawyer with? This is a legitimate document; I can assure you. It's the "Transference of Trusts" Contract. In exchange for your assets and your servitude, I give you protection. Heeheehee!"

"How is this a legal document?" She demanded.

"Back in the age of chhhhhivalry! Men came up with a document to enslave unwitting, 'Independent' women, especially those women who had bastard children. A lone mother with a child or two. She was struggling – a benign looking fellow, strong and handsome, would go up to a struggling mother and offer her support. The contract seemed like a marriage proposal – the greedy women acquiesced the request, hoping to use his resources than ditch the man in divorce later. You cannot divorce from an 'Transference of Trusts' contract, though, as it says nothing about Holy Matrimony! It is as platonic as it comes! It is now used for simpler reason, but knowing the full history of it makes it easy for us to use it to its full potential."

It was hard to tell in the pale lighting, but her face was drained of her normal color. Only horror filled her mind and bile rose in her throat.

"As I said, it is strictly platonic. I cannot force you to have sex with me, as that's the first thing that seems to pop up in young women's minds. No, no, no, no! I want you to clean my house and cook my dinner. Things of that nature. I will send one of my men to search your belongings and claim your assets. Pleasure doing business with you, ma'am. Oops, I guess I get to call you whatever fancies me, huh? How about Maid Ceana?"

"But . . . why?" She eyed the bag of money, "Why would you go through the effort to show me that, if you had no intentions on paying me?"

"Ahahahaha! The old Bait and Switch. Visually appealing, an end goal in sight! It distracted you from reading this contract – so easily fooled!"

"You lied to me!"

"And you were selling your son! Aren't we both hideously savage inside? Except you are beautiful on the outside and I am horribly disfigured and most consider me a monster at first glance! But who is really more of a fiend than that of a mother who cares not for the safety of her own child?"

"Do not compare me to you!"

"Why should I not? Judging by the actions we both displayed, I'd say we are near the same level. Except I played you like a fiddle and you're just pissed off because I won."

The man rolled up the contract and stuck it in his coat pocket.

He picked up the young boy on the table, "Ah, yes, my prize for this meeting. Little Niles, was it? Hahaha, your mother is a shrew, though you won't be having to see her much after this," He limped to another room, child in his arms.

"Wait!" Ceana called, "What are you going to do with him?"

"Now you show concern," The disfigured man smiled, "Hmm, why should I answer that? More importantly, why do you care? Let me guess – as long as you never had to bear witness to any misgivings to your child, you could push it to the back of your mind and never pay attention to the nagging voice called YOUR CONSCIENCE? Now that you are stuck here, you get to witness the demise of your child? Am I on the right track, here? Or should I guess again?"

"Ugh," Ceana sat back down, unable to answer or meet the man's gaze.

"Less of a shrew, more of a field mouse. Little Bunny Fu Fu, hoppin' through the forest . . . Picking up the Field Mice and BOPPING THEM ON THE HEAD! Hahaha."

"The Bunny gets punished at the end, by a Great Faerie."

"Well, then, do you fancy yourself a bunny or a mouse?" The man hobbled off, leaving Ceana in the room by herself.

She began thinking of ways out of this new found mess. She would need to look over the document – or have someone more versed in it review it for her. This was supposed to be easy . . . drop the wretch off, get paid for it . . . Nothing more. Damn swindlers! It was this kind of word play that created shit situations to begin with.

She looked out the window – the rain kept pouring and pouring . . . A never ending storm.

(There is no way I am stuck here, cleaning this shithole for the next five years. I wanted to get rid of my burdens – not add more of them!)

In the other room, the disfigured man sat Niles down on the hard stone. The room was bare, but strangely warm. The bricks were exposed – no paneling or painting even attempted to hide its true colors. Niles saw out the window – A torrential storm would not cease its reign over the Earth, flooding it with its strangely beautiful destructive force.

It was still dark in this room. In a hole in the wall, the field mouse returned. In the other corner was a huge pile of money, not restrained by a bag or a box. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth.

Old brick. A field mouse. Torrential rain. The horrifyingly disfigured man. A pile of money. The taste of blood . . . These were the only things that the young Niles could recount from this experience. Neither pleasant or painful . . . Just . . . was. This place existed in the very back of his mind – he could not access any more of it, no matter how hard he tried.

The disfigured man never harmed him – not that he could ever recall, anyway. But that was the last time he remembered seeing him . . . and was the last time he ever spent with his mother . . .