About
I might have a masculine name, but I am not a man.I am Shariah Miavirre (Shariah meaning noble law in my native tongue, while it may not seem like a masculine name now, when I came from it was). I was born into a wealthy family that needed a male heir. My father chose to raise me as though I was his son, rather than a daughter, and my mute maid was the only other who knew the truth.
I was taught to read and write, to fight, to lead.... and then, when I was fourteen, my father's second wife finally bore him a son. My brother's cries were still ringing through the house when my father found me and told me that my charade was no longer necessary--I was no longer necessary--and that he was going to arrange for me to be married off to some man in a distant country who would be unaware of my untoward upbringing. My father seemed honestly shocked when I slapped him in the face. How could he believe that I, who had been brought up to see things a man's way, would settle for the restrictions my culture placed on women?
I left my father's house that night, knowing that he would kill me if I stayed but with every intention of returning. My father made my plan so much easier by claiming that his son, Shariah, had gone missing after setting off on journey to increase my father's trading routes.
For the next for years I lived in the darkness, fending off those my father hired to kill me. When I was twenty-one I returned to my father's house, having determined to kill my younger brother (now 7 years old) so that my father would need me again. Though I snuck into the house and stood over my brother's sleeping form, I could not make myself do it. Instead, determining an even better punishment, I took my younger brother with me.
It was not until many years later that I realized something was wrong with me. I never seemed to grow any older. My younger brother now appeared several years my senior although we both knew it wasn't true. I did not find out why until the day our father died and we returned to take over his house. The town rejoiced at our return, but my father's wife was furious. She taunted me, saying that my father had gone to the king himself and requested that I be cursed such that I wished I had never been born. Somehow I don't think they intended for me to live forever, but after countless years of life my weariness with it all grows exponentially and every day, nay every hour, I wish repeatedly that I had never been born.....
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oh yeah, i want my clothes back too! it gives a strange feeling ^^'
*just curious, hope you don't mind me asking*