Bound by Roots and Betrayal

Chapter 1

“Amelia, hurry and fetch two buckets of water,” said her mother, holding a young baby in her arms and gently soothing him.

Amelia, a sprightly girl with an air of determination, expertly balanced two wooden buckets on a thick pole across her shoulders and lifted the weight. Though the load pressed down hard, causing her shoulders to shift slightly, she regained her composure quickly.

With a bright smile, she looked over at her mother. “Mom, I’ll be right back with the water!”

Amelia’s mother, whose refined features had been weathered by years of hardships, was proud of her daughter even as the marks of life etched into her skin spoke of struggles past. Watching Amelia’s obedient grin as she set off with the heavy buckets made her heart soften a bit.

“Go on then, and when you return, I’ll make you a bowl of scrambled eggs,” her mother encouraged.

With steady strides, Amelia made her way through the door and into the world outside. As she walked away, her mother felt a flicker of unease creep into her thoughts.

Since her birth, Amelia had shown unusual vigor for her age. Though born under less than opportune circumstances—a difficult pregnancy due to her mother’s mother's harshness—she had emerged a healthy baby. Her grandmother had scoffed with disdain, calling her a “bad investment," but Amelia thrived, growing stronger even when her mother struggled to keep up with the demands of motherhood.

As Amelia reached the age of four, her resilience became even more evident; it appeared she had more strength than the boys her age. Thus, she began taking on household chores, as her newborn brother’s arrival meant her mother often needed to rest.

Given that her newborn brother was a boy, her grandmother’s attitude softened towards the family. While her husband usually discouraged her from working in the fields, he permitted her to care for their son at home, and her mother-in-law seemed to accept this decision without objection. Since Amelia could manage the work, she simply took on the chores until she had the chance to do more.

As Amelia trudged along the well-worn path through the woods, she reflected on the layout of Fairbanks Village. Unlike many places, it lacked a well, so she had to trek to the river to fetch water, balancing the heavy buckets on the pole. Her feet found the mud-hardened ground, still damp from the spring rain, making her grass-soled shoes stick slightly with each step.

Nevertheless, her strength was notably greater than that of typical children. She knew that carrying the buckets helped her earn some respect from her mother, who valued their efforts.

The earth beneath her feet was uneven, with rocks occasionally jutting out, causing her steps to falter as she carefully navigated the terrain. Before her little brother was born, her parents had doted on her, despite being a girl. However, ever since he entered their lives, she had taken on more responsibilities.

Ignoring the sharp pricks of stones against her soles, Amelia finally made it to the riverbank. She set the buckets down, watching them wobble as they hit the ground. Rubbing her sore shoulders, she took a handful of cool water and splashed it onto her face, cleaning off the dirt that had gathered from her trek and from a day’s labor under the sun, the sweat making her feel sticky.

Here by the river, facing the serene waters, Amelia took a moment to breathe, looking up at the trees that swayed above, consoled by the gentle murmur of the river running nearby. The rhythm of nature wrapped around her, soothing her worries as she prepared to fill the buckets that would bring nourishment back to her family.

Chapter 2

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a reflection of Amelia Fairbanks appeared on the clear, shimmering surface of the river. In Fairbanks Village, she was just a girl without much significance, particularly since her parents seemed to favor her baby brother ever since he was born. They were elated to welcome a son, but when Amelia arrived, she felt like an afterthought, her existence barely acknowledged. While her brother was named Goldwyn with great joy, she was merely called “Amelia” — a name lacking much love or ceremony.

Her reflection in the water displayed delicate features; despite her slightly tan complexion, her beauty was unmistakable, inherited from her striking parents, who were the best-looking in their village. She bore their best traits, even if her skin wasn’t as fair as most in the area. Her bright emerald eyes sparkled, revealing a light that set her apart from the other children in the village.

From a young age, Amelia possessed a keen awareness of the world around her. She remembered much of what happened in her surroundings, just as the village schoolmaster noted about those who were exceptionally bright. She often wondered whether she truly belonged among them. With her family's limited means, there was no way they could afford to send her to school, so she would secretly listen to the lessons, trying to grasp every word.

While others struggled with the teacher's lessons, Amelia had a knack for learning quickly; a simple glance at texts would embed them in her memory. Her lips brushed against the cracked skin, soothing the slight sting that accompanied her toil in the day-to-day.

Amelia soon realized that in the eyes of the Sunmaw people, boys and girls were treated differently. But she couldn’t understand why. Her single aim was to work harder than anyone else, hoping to earn back some of her parents' attention that seemed to be drawn solely toward her brother. Understanding her family dynamics came earlier to her than to many girls her age, perhaps because it was her only means of survival.

With effort, she balanced a large wooden bucket against her hip. The coarse texture scratched at her skin, a reminder of her grueling labor. With a determined grunt, she pushed the bucket underwater and then hefted it back to the surface, filled to the brim. She struggled to lift two buckets, the weight pulling at her frame, nearly tipping her off balance.

Amelia gritted her teeth, feeling the sharp ache in her shoulder. Despite the pain, she pressed on, biting down on her already chapped lip. The soft babbling of the river accompanied her as she turned back to appreciate the view of her reflection once more.

She had been aware of her feelings ever since her brother’s arrival and certainly refused to be neglected.

***

“Look at your darling girl! She’s quite the industrious one, isn’t she? Absolutely takes after you two!” An auntie, known as Greta, sat comfortably in their modest home, her hands busy shelling peanuts, scattering the shells across their table.

Amelia’s mother, Clara Blossom, offered a humble smile, her demeanor somewhat subdued in the presence of Greta's robust personality.

“Hello, Auntie Greta!” Amelia chirped sweetly, before making her way past them to the firewood shed, where she filled the water barrels.

As she poured the water, she couldn’t shake the disquiet that had settled within her. This Aunt Greta didn’t seem like one of their own village folks; her attire was far finer than the simple fabrics worn in Fairbanks. It glistened, almost too opulent, and made Amelia feel uneasy under the weight of her scrutinizing gaze.

Amelia dared not eavesdrop; the clucking of the chickens outside masked any chance of understanding their conversation. Lingering too long might draw suspicion, and she didn’t want her mother to worry.

Venturing back out, Amelia caught sight of Greta leaving. As Clara waved her off, her expression was one of insatiable longing that Amelia couldn’t quite comprehend; it frightened her.

“Mom, I finished pouring water into the barrels,” she reported, lifting her chin, forcing a bright smile despite the uncertainty she felt inside.

Clara looked over at her, a spark of warmth flickering in her eyes. Amelia stood there, slender and too worn from her work, yet her beauty was still evident. The anticipation and pride in Clara’s gaze elicited a sense of comfort in Amelia, driving away the shadows that lingered in her mother’s mind. After all, Amelia was her hope for the future, and she cherished that above all else.

Chapter 3

As evening fell, the sun started its descent, casting a warm orange glow over Fairbanks Village. It was the time of day when Alaric, the backbone of this humble family, returned home.

Edmund Fairbanks paused his work, set his hoe aside, and accepted a towel from his daughter, Amelia. He wiped the perspiration from his brow and glanced toward the house with a smile. At forty years old, he bore the ruggedness of a farmer, yet his strong features revealed a handsome young man from his youth, noted as one of the more good-looking fellows in all of Fairbanks.

However, the family had always struggled financially, and with their small plot of land, Edmund’s aspirations for a beautiful wife had forced him to wait until he was nearly thirty to find a partner.

He ruffled Amelia's hair affectionately as he stepped inside.

“Where’s my little treasure? Does my son miss his dad?” he called out.

Amelia quickly caught the towel her father tossed to her, her lips pursing as she watched him walk further into the house.

She moved aside to fetch some water, scrubbing the towel clean before hanging it back up, then hurried inside to the kitchen.

Life in Fairbanks Village flowed along like the gentle streams nearby, and after Edmund had married Clara Blossom, things had improved just enough for them to scrape by.

Lately, however, the crops hadn’t been thriving, and Clara had given birth to a son. This was their first child; naturally, they needed to take great care in raising him.

With the arrival of their baby boy, Clara was busy tending to him, and Edmund, understanding her duties, had made sure she didn’t have to work the fields too often. She had taken to managing the household while Amelia helped out, and thanks to their effort, life had grown quite comfortable.

That evening, Clara cooked a pot of porridge made from a swirl of old rice and sorghum, sautéed some fresh lotus root, and prepared a side of yellow squash.

Amelia, seeing her husband pull their swaddled son from the bed only to wake him with a scratchy beard stroke, couldn’t contain her laughter at how it caused the baby to wail.

“Shh, little one, you must be hungry. Mother made you some egg custard. Let’s get you fed,” she cooed, gently taking the baby into her arms. At just over four weeks old, he had transformed from a bright red newborn to the healthier complexion of a little cherub.

On their wooden table, two plates of side dishes and a bowl of porridge awaited, alongside a bowl of golden egg custard, drizzled with fragrant sesame oil that filled the air with sweetness.

Though Edmund also felt hunger pangs, the welfare of his son took precedence, and he wouldn’t dare snatch food from the child’s mouth.

As he settled onto a stool, he saw Amelia scamper in.

“Amelia, get the bowls and chopsticks; it’s time to eat,” he instructed.

“Coming right away, Dad!” she chirped.

Chubby hands swiftly collected the utensils and set the table. Using a large ladle, she filled each bowl with porridge and served it to her parents at the table.

Amelia was obedient and diligent; just four years old, she possessed more strength than most boys her age and was able to handle chores with ease. Edmund and Clara were far from stingy with their compliments; Amelia was allowed to enjoy a hearty helping of porridge.

Chapter 4

Amelia Fairbanks often went up the hill with her peers to collect pigweed and dig for wild vegetables. She knew that the other children who lived around Master Elowen's house were leading very different lives—only those who were favored in their homes dined well like her.

The aroma of chicken broth wafted towards her as Clara Blossom fed her own child, making Amelia swallow hard; she recalled Clara's promise from earlier that day while going to fetch water.

But she didn’t bother asking her own mother about it. Instead, she returned her focus back to her bowl, taking a sip of the thick porridge. Her father, Edmund Fairbanks, needed the strength to work the fields, and the porridge was the heartiest, with Clara's preparations coming second. For Amelia, however, it resembled more a mixture of rice and water, but as she swallowed it, it warmed her stomach.

Clara had a knack for cooking; she used less oil and salt, but the flavor of lotus greens and yellow squash still registered well in Amelia's mind.

Before long, her bowl was almost empty. Edmund set his bowl down on the table and took their son from Clara's hands. As she ate, Clara gently rocked her baby. She seized the opportunity to pour the remaining broth from her bowl into her son’s bowl, adding to the porridge, and then set it down again, smiling at Lady Sophia. "Sophia, can you help your mama wash the dishes?"

Amelia was stronger than the other kids and had a better appetite as well. She was bright and willing to help, so neither Edmund nor Clara remarked on her eating habits. Instead, they encouraged her to eat her fill.

Quickly, she stacked the empty bowls together, deftly gathering the dishes to wash them in the kitchen. Edmund noticed Amelia's industriousness and caught the glimmer of happiness in Clara's eyes.

"What's making you smile?” he asked.

Clara grinned widely. “The matchmaker, Sister Willa, came by today. She said Sophia has grown well with us, and she seems healthy too. Sister Willa said she could be a good match, but she still needs to confirm with Lord Liwyn.”

The sparkle in Clara's eyes was genuine as she held up her right hand and counted out fingers. “It could be this many!”

Edmund's interest in the matter had started low, after all, this was just a match for a child, but seeing the number Clara indicated surprised him. "That many?"

He smiled, his gaze drifting to their sleepy son, who had just finished eating. His determination strengthened. Each silver piece counted—twenty taels in total.

“Lord Liwyn. I've worked tirelessly in the fields for eight years and not made that much.”

“But Lord Liwyn’s son…,” he added, a hint of reluctance flaring in his eyes, and Clara fell silent too.

Yet she spoke up. “Even if Lord Liwyn’s son isn’t the brightest, his family has plenty of wealth to spare. Even if Sophia ends up struggling with us in the fields, she’ll always remember us when she had a taste of better days.”

Edmund pursed his lips tightly, narrowing his eyes, but then his gaze softened as he looked at their child, who had clearly inherited good features from both of them, with tender skin.

He made a resolution then. “Then I’ll take Sophia into the city this time and let Lord Liwyn see her.”

“Sure.”

In truth, Clara wasn’t entirely keen on the idea. Sophia was already capable of helping them around the home, fetching water and managing the housework on her own. Most other girls her age could only handle small errands, like gathering pigweed or doing the dishes.

But their son had come—this was a blessing bestowed upon them. She wanted him to eat well and study for a few more years, so he wouldn’t turn into a daydreamer. Then, perhaps someday, he would want a beautiful daughter-in-law and a lively granddaughter to bring forth. She was counting on that silver piece now more than ever.

Nodding, she started calculating how she would spend those twenty taels once they were in hand. Their house was falling apart; the doors and windows were so poorly sealed that the wind often howled through. It was fine at the moment, being summer; but winter was approaching, and they couldn’t afford to have their son suffer.

Chapter 5

Amelia Fairbanks washed the dishes with ease, her hands occasionally pruned from the water, as she placed the clean plates and utensils into the wooden cabinet Alaric.

Suddenly, she remembered Greta the Innkeeper, who had come to her family's cottage that day. Amelia’s memory was sharp; she vividly recalled the way Greta had looked at her — it was as if the innkeeper was eyeing a prized piece of meat or marveling at the various goods during market visits.

In Greta's eyes, Amelia felt like a mere commodity.

What disturbed her further was the odd deference her parents showed towards the innkeeper, their respect almost subservient.

Shaking her head to clear the unwelcome thoughts, she brushed aside the disquiet that was beginning to creep in. Surely, her parents weren’t thinking of selling her off, right? While life in Fairbanks Village was modest, it wasn’t so desperate that they would resort to such extremes. She recalled overhearing tales about Sister Willa from the neighboring village, whose family had fallen on hard times and had made the painful decision to sell her into servitude for a few pieces of silver.

Amelia knew she contributed to the household as best she could. She worked hard to be a practical asset, always willing and able, possessing strength that would surely allow her to handle even more responsibilities in the future.

Although they weren't wealthy, they made do; Amelia would take care of her little brother when her parents worked the fields.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she put her brother Elias down before stepping into the main room.

There, she found her parents, Edmund and Clara, leaning against the bed as they watched their son sleep peacefully. The warm, golden glow of the oil lamp bathed the room in a soft light, stirring a faint twinge of envy within her.

If only, she thought, if only she had been born a boy. She could have gone to school, learned to read, and been cherished like a little prince.

The sound of her footsteps caught her parents' attention, pulling them from their reverie. Clara remembered the upcoming trip to the city to meet Elder Cillian. Edmund smiled warmly at Amelia, beckoning her over as he grinned with pride.

Seeing her father smile made Amelia's heart lift, pushing aside the lingering shadows of her earlier worries. She bounded over to her parents, delight radiating from her being.

Clara, noticing Amelia’s exuberance, shot a glance at her husband, pleased that their son remained undisturbed. A smudge of worry crossed her brow momentarily, but she quickly relaxed as a thought crossed her mind.

Amelia caught sight of her mother's frown and realized her exuberance might have stirred Elias from his slumber.

Quietly, she came to a halt and tiptoed closer, speaking softly, "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to wake him."

Her tone was anxious, her eyes darting to her mother’s face, relieved when she saw Clara relax, her features softening.

Edmund chimed in, a broad smile lighting up his face. "No harm done, dear! You’re becoming quite the wonderful daughter. You know, Mrs. High has gone with your father to the market, and I promised to bring you a red hair ribbon!”

The mention of the ribbon made Amelia’s eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Really, Dad?”

“Of course!” he affirmed, stroking her hair affectionately.

“Thank you, Dad!”

He nodded, “Now, it's time for you to get some rest.”

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