Book One The Black Lion Old Version

May My Angel smile

Mercedes age 10 1167

Mercedes was confused. Why were her mother and she leaving? Where was her little brother? Where was Emile? All this was confusing to the 10-year-old girl. It was her birthday today, yet she was forced to leave the one home that she knew. It was raining, yet her mother and she were out in the street, trying to escape her father's household, and her mother wouldn't tell her why.

"I want to go home," Mercedes said crying. Her mother didn't say anything, which worried the confused child. Her mother never did that. She hated being out here. She hated being away from her home. It was cold. She was soaked. Her feet hurt. It was supposed to be her birthday, a happy day, yet she was out in the rain, miserable.

"There are those who don't want us in their home, especially your father. I had to leave. I wish I could say more," the woman said, her voice breaking, barely able to keep her composure. Her inability to not cry showed that she wanted to, and the 10-year-old was able to pick up that her mother was crying and was trying to be strong for her.

"Why? What have we done wrong? Have I been bad? Why can't we go home? Why are we out here? Why, Mama?" asked Mercedes, a short-haired girl who couldn't understand for the life of her why things were so cruel in this world.

"You've done nothing wrong, dear," her mother said, but she didn't believe it. She couldn't understand why there had to be a reason why her mother married the man who was the father of her little brother. There had to be a reason, and it couldn't be just love. But if he loved her, why did he force them out like this?

"It's not fair," Mercedes said, crying. They were continuing to walk. There was a point where she wore the nicest clothes money could buy, but they were now dirty and soaked with the heavy rain. She looked around and saw children her own age in warm houses, even some celebrating their birthdays. They weren't nobles; they were just commoners. There was nothing special about them, and she wondered what it would be like just to be a normal child.

"I hate birthdays," Mercedes said. Her mother stopped and then looked at her with the saddest look she had ever seen from her mother, the blue-eyed woman whose hair was blonde. She embraced her, and Mercedes was confused. Why was she doing this in the rain?

"I'm so sorry, my angel. You should be in a home that's warm, and you should be surrounded by people who love you, not out like this. I'm so sorry, Mercie, my little angel, I am." The woman sobbed uncontrollably. Not only did this day cause Mercedes misery, but her own mother too. She hated the nobility it caused her family; nothing but pain. Her brother, what was he thinking now? Did he think his big sister abandoned him?

"I wish I had never been born with a crest," Mercedes said quietly. Her mother looked at her and understood only too well the burden that they both bore. What men coveted, they didn't care about them as people.

"Why can't Emile be with us? Why?" Mercedes asked, confused.

"I wish I could answer that," her mother said. This day was always hell for her. Nothing good ever happened on her birthday. She hated this day and being out in the rain with her mother, looking for a place where they could sleep for the night. She had never had a positive memory of birthdays. They were always associated with something bad, and this day was no exception.

"One day, someone will make you smile on your birthday, my dear child, and when they do, I hope this day becomes a distant memory." They didn't say anything else the rest of the day. The one thing she remembers was her mother's sad face.

Mercedes woke up. It was just a memory, she thought. Why was she thinking about that day? She didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to remember it. The day that she and her mother were forced to leave everything they knew behind, the day she was forced to leave her brother behind, the life that she knew. She never had pleasant memories on her birthdays. She always associated birthdays with something bad. On the day she was born, her father died. She may not remember her father's stuff because she was a newborn when it happened, but it doesn't change the fact that she was born the day her father died.