Circe

Circe was known for many things. She was one with such an unagreeable character that many preferred to keep their distance, especially children, whom she just hated. No, despised rather. Circe saw them as tiny, despicable beings who would end up growing exactly different from what they were trained to be. 

 Circe wasn't popular with children. Even if her house was surrounded by an orchard, and she grew the sweetest fruits in the village, people hardly came to visit. Not minding the fact that she was 71 and had no one to help, her shrewd character drove any willing helper away from her house. 

 They all tried. She was an old woman, she could use some help. Her character, however, was that of a spiteful old woman whom some children referred to as "the lonely witch of the village". Truly, she lived up to the title. For a life of solitude, after all, was better than a life filled with ungrateful children. This was her maxim.

 Circe wasn't always this spiteful. Life had hardened her heart to the point she saw peace in only herself. Solitude. 

 Circe's life was a sad one. She barely got to know her parents or have family time. Her father was a Count and he devoted his life to his duties. Belonging to the upper class, she was raised by a strict governess who taught her only one thing - how to be a proper woman. How to eat like a lady, how to walk like a lady. How to talk like a lady, how to smile like a lady. Above all, how to be a wife. 

 Circe lived her life memorizing the duties of being a good wife that she didn't have a life of her own. She had no hobbies except that which, as she later got to learn, was from her betrothed. At five years old, she was already betrothed to the third son of the archbishop. Throughout her remaining days unmarried, Circe was trained to learn the hobbies, likes and dislikes of her husband-to-be. She knew nothing else. Simeon, her betrothed, preferred the color purple because it was royal. Therefore, Circe's favourite colour had to be purple. Likewise, he was allergic to ginger and so, she could never taste ginger in any of her food or drinks again. 

 At six and ten years old, Circe was married to Simeon, who was Twenty-Six at that time. Their marriage was that of peace and devotion. Her husband was content with her. Circe was a proper woman, and she was proud of it. They were blessed with seven children, all of whom were girls. The eighth, a boy, died two days after his birth. 

 Circe blamed herself daily for not being a good wife to her husband by giving him a male child. Simeon wasn't disturbed by this. He loved his family and was content with his life. Unfortunately, Simeon got sick and died of tuberculosis five months after the death of their last child. As a widow without a male child to inherit all of her husband's wealth, Circe had to wait for her daughters to get married and birth a male child who would save her from losing everything. The only thing she had was some of her husband's savings, which she had access to and which could allow her to live in peace. 

 Overtime, Circe diverted all her heart into training her seven girls. She wanted them to be perfect women, to live perfect lives, and be good wives to their future husbands - just as she was trained to be. 

 However, faith, as she always lamented, gave her the wrong set of children. Her firstborn, Sofia, insisted on being an independent woman who should think of herself first. Circe would take her time explaining to Sofia that she was a woman, and she had no rights as a lady, except with a man by her side, but somehow, Sofia got more rebellious every day. Circe feared for her child and her future marriage. The biggest shock came when Sofia refused to marry the man she had been betrothed to - the Duke. According to her, she wanted to be a lawyer - a man's profession. 

 Sofia refused to learn how to be a woman. She rebelled daily. Circe's agitation about a male child led her to the point where all she wanted was for her daughters to get married. She planned to get her children married one after the other.

 Sofia was fifteen when her father died. She used to be daddy's little girl and always got away with her mother's scoldings about not acting like a proper female. After her father's death, she realized her mother could not inherit his wealth because of her gender. Her eyes were immediately opened to the ways of the world, and she knew then and there she was meant to be different. Her mother, however, did not think like her. 

 Sofia ran away from home the day she turned Twenty. Well, the night before, her mother had threatened that if she didn't agree to marry the duke, she would be disowned. 

 Circe was thrilled when the duke requested to marry her daughter. She saw this as a golden opportunity and a way to solve their financial problems. Also, once Sofia gives birth to a boy, her late husband's wealth would be transferred to the young child, and they could all live comfortable lives. 

 Sofia refused the wedding straight away. She did not like the duke, she'd explained. He was old and would hinder her from being successful. Circe was heartbroken - she believed her daughter had been blinded by wealth. When her third child, Kathryn, gave her the news of Sofia's escape from home, Circe simply convinced herself she only had six daughters. The first was a waste of time. 

 Unfortunately, Circe was so occupied in Sofia's matter that she'd forgotten about her other teenage daughters. After Sofia's exile, Circe was able to convince the duke and everyone important that Sofia was sick and was taken to her mother's village as the sickness may be untreatable. Gaining enough sympathy, the Duke was willing to marry Rachael, Sofia's immediate younger sister. 

 Rachael was eighteen when Sofia's engagement was passed to her. She would marry a duke. She wasn't given much time to deliberate on the matter as the duke was now in a hurry to marry. At thirty-three, he was more than ready for an heir. His first wife, Rachael learned, was childless, so he divorced her. This must've been one of Sofia's many reasons for not wanting to marry. Though not close to her immediate older sister, she knew a little about her. One of which she knew, was that her sister was not in a hurry to be a mother. She wanted to make her own money first. They were both incompatible. 

 Rachael would have been more than willing to marry the duke, his name she couldn't quite remember, except her heart was already beating for someone else. Someone whom her mother may not think an eligible bachelor, as he was from the lower class - a mere worker in the archbishop's mansion. She fell carelessly for him. His sweet poems, reassuring words, their secret walks. Damian knew her so well. When Rachael realized she'd fallen for him, it was too late. She tried to turn off her feelings for him. She acted coldly towards him; she pushed him away. Rachael was oblivious to the fact that love was strange. The more she pushed him away, the deeper she fell for him. Damian was perfect. 

 Rachael could not imagine being close to someone else, not even if he was a duke. One evening, a week before her supposed wedding, Rachael confided in her mother for the first time in her life. 

 "I cannot marry the duke, mother."