I am Baratheon Bearskinner of Rolene hamlet, Damara.

 

I have crawled broken and battered from the ashes of Rolene, a vengeful phoenix filled with rage and grief. My jealous brother has stolen away my infant son, and neither gods nor sins-incarnate shall save him from my wrath. If I survive this ordeal, I return to Damara and cleanse it of the wretched Sins that infest it. In the name of Shylen, goddess of all that is good and beautiful, this I declare.

Today I ponder the fickleness of fate, the bitter roads of injustice, and the mercurial will of the gods. I reflect upon the events that have taken my loved ones from me and destroyed everything I once cherished.

So much tragedy has transpired around me. So many acts of selfish cruelty and wicked violence. At first glance I could easily believe that this all began at the sacking of Rolene, of my home, razed by an army of barbarian dwarves. But upon reflection I must accept that, in truth, there has been a stain of evil seeping into Damara for years now, seeping up from the land’s corrupted roots as its glacial ices melt. And this stain has spread far and wide.

Those barbarian dwarves were but one small bit of this buried darkness, spewed out upon the land in a violent birth of blood and terror. Worshippers of an old religion revolving around the fractured aspects of sins and virtues, the dwarves carried the sigil of their personal sin Gluttony, and their mad leader ate chunks of flesh from troll arms that he wielded as weapons.

But another such stain had spread into my family many years before, perhaps influenced by the aspect of Envy. My older brother Samas and I constantly battled for our parents’ favor, and for the approval and affection of those within our small village, Rolene. When my brother earned a higher position than me in our family leather-working business, I seethed. I lashed out with arguments and tantrums. “Why him over me? I was just as talented! I worked equally as hard!” I sought notoriety elsewhere, apprenticing with town’s bard, focused my anger and honed my charm and musical skills. I became reknown across the hamlets as a great Wardrummer and powerful orator, keeper of the lore. And in turn Samas fumed, as if I cast my shadow upon him and he couldn’t bear it.

Years of such rivalry continued, as we brothers clawed over one another at every turn, until, sick of the turmoil, I looked for solstice in the forgiving arms of Shylen, Goddess of Beauty, of song. I focused more on my work and less on my popularity. I tried to calm the rage that always simmered within me, or at least direct it into productivity. Alas, when I found Shylen, I found Juliarra as well. Beautiful Juliarra, betrothed to Samas in order to strengthen ties between my father’s business in Rolene and a merchant of Tokard. She tempted me like no other. Each time we met tossed me into the throes of heartache, and I battled daily against an ugly cloud of envy that tried to smother me. I sought forbearance and restraint nightly in my prayers to Shylen.

Juliarra was a magnificent woman, radiant within and without, and honorable. In secret she confided to me that she did not love Samas, and likely never would. She was shamed, but determined to see things through for the benefit of her family. Determined, but for the growing mutual affections we developed for one another. We would meet and walk any chance we could make excuse for, and struggled to conceal our adoring glances while in the company of others. Samas knew though. Probably everyone knew. But Samas especially, and one night he struck her in anger during an argument about the time she and I spent together. His own envy bubbling forth. To be engaged to marry such a beautiful woman, only to learn that her affections lie elsewhere. To have her hand, but not her heart burned him grievously. Samas stormed to my own room that night with a decorative bear claw club snatched from a wall and struck me down. The weapon clawed my right eye from the socket, and he stood over me trembling in fury. “You have to have everything, don’t you, Bara? You’re never content with what you’re given. You grasp at everything, hoard everything. Well, you can’t take her too! She’s mine, damn you! You selfish goat. You can win the heart of any woman in the Hamlets, charm any father into bequeathing you a daughter and a dowery. Keep your envious leering eyes off of my betrothed! And be-still your crooning voice.”

But I couldn’t. I begged Shylen to forgive the selfish desires of my heart, for I agreed with Samas that I must be selfish, wanting what wasn’t meant to be mine. And I prayed for her to quiet my rage that Samas had injured me so brutally and without apology. Shame wracked me, but my love for Juliarra swelled stronger still. And when I found Juliarra also bruised and beaten by Samas, my own indignant anger overwhelmed what little restraint I had left. Although Juliarra begged me to flee with her into the night, I instead marched us right to my father, one hand clutched over my bleeding eye, the other clutching Juliarra tight. We confessed our not-so-secret love to my father, and I convinced him that not only was Samas unfit to wed Juliarra (for no man should strike a woman, let alone his bride-to-be) but that word of his abusiveness could harm the very strength of the business partnership my father was trying reinforce. The next morning the household was in an uproar, arguments and strong words flung from all sides, but when it settled, my father’s rule held strong. He was a strong man, with a keen eye for family and business. Father was not please with either Samas or myself. To be honest, he was mortified at both of us. But to keep the peace and keep the bond between Juliana’s family business and our own, he declared that Samas’ engagement was to be broken, and that I would marry Juliarra instead.

Over the years I tried desperately to patch the bond of brotherhood between Samas and I. But I had done too much damage. Samas saw every success throughout my life as if it were his own failure, that whatever I achieved was something that was taken from him, that he had somehow lost to me. His envy boiled black and deep. And I never understood how thick his hatred for me ran until that fateful day when Rolene fell, and the barbarians tore away from me everything that I cherished, save my young son. I learned too late that his hatred was complete and unyielding. Clasping my son to his chest as I struggled to defend them, as we fled the burning town, Samas put a boot to my back and shoved me into peril with no hope of escape. He cursed me then, while I was beaten down and surrounded by flames and enemies. He cursed me and claimed my son as his own as if he somehow deserved it. 

Perhaps he did.