The black Sheep

Mother pulled tightly on each strand of hair as she weaved it into an intricate braid. The braid, with its delicate flowers entwined into its pattern, contrasted the burning sensation of my abused scalp. The flowers were at my request, but Mother says they won't help me be more beautiful. I lost that chance the moment I was born the way I am. I winced as she pulled the last strand at the base of my neck and laced it with a flower. She made a shrewd expression at me through the mirror.

"I"m sure your husband won't be so accepting of such unappealing expressions." She yanked the base of the braid exceptionally hard, making me wince once more.

I casted my eyes downwards to not meet her cold blue ones in our reflections, hoping my long eyelashes covered the embarrassment behind them. Mother always had taught me and my sisters to keep our features calm and submissive. The way I scrunched my nose and pinched my eyebrows every time she braided my hair did me nothing but have her pull on the curls tighter.

That was another problem. My curly brown hair. It was wild and hard to maintain which was different from the classic straight ice-blond hair that my family is known for. Ice-blond being a rarity itself across Khanaria. Our family is famous for the color and how, no matter who we marry, the color gets passed on to the children. It's always made me feel disgusted how other noble families will line up and try to offer the biggest sum of money just to have a chance to marry one of their daughters or sons to ours. Father has traveled the world and brought back scientists and doctors to try to explain the phenomena, but to no avail. The hair isn't tied to any sickness nor is it tied to our environment. The biggest mystery is why I was born without it and if this change means an end coming to our legacy. I believe that's mothers worst fear. Change.

I glanced back up at my mother when she was focused on pinning my hair. There was an expectation that family members who turned out any different (Goddess forbid, Mother says) are expected to work five times as hard for their positions than the others. This sad reality became mine when I had the nerve to be born differently. Except my brown hair means I have to work one thousand times harder.

Which was why I was in this room almost every day. In this stupid chair. Getting my stupid hair braided. It was all because I was expected to be married off and mother says no noble in their right mind would look my way if my hair was messy. They already look over me when I'm next to my sisters anyway. It's harder to maintain my hair than the rest of my sisters and so that meant I had to fall victim to mothers unforgiving hair pulling. Despite the fact that I'm the black sheep of the family, Mother was able to secure me a good marriage with a boy from the Mason's family. The head of the Mason's family was the duke of Khanaria. He's known to have been quite close to the king of Khanaria. Marrying me off to one of his sons would be the perfect way to get rid of me and still get something in return. The honor of marrying one of the duke's sons was a great one and I was surprised that my parents would even let me. True, I'll most likely be married off to the son with the lowest title. They would never let me marry the possible next duke. An honor like that would go to one of my "deserving" sisters.

I didn't let myself think about what my parents would've done to me if they couldn't find me a suitor. Just the thought gave me a shudder which earned me a poke from another pin Mother was putting in my hair. She stepped back from the vanity and signaled for me to stand with her. I took in the state of my hair. My waist-length curls came together into one neat braid that was pinned to form a bun at the base of my neck. The bun was too tight, as usual, and I knew I was going to let the braid loose later. Small flowers that I picked out of the garden were weaved all across the bun. Mother said it would be childlike to put a plant from outside into my hair and it would look like I rolled around in the grass. I looked at myself and was pleased despite what she had told me. A smile almost formed upon my lips before one of her lessons came to mind.

"Never smile too wide or too true. A proper lady of the Vassefort family keeps her expressions in check."

Mothers words echoed in my head before I closed my eyes and lightly dipped my chin in a sign of gratitude, keeping my features calm. She let out a small hum which let me know that she saw me catch my own mistake before she had to.

"Now hurry along. Those books aren't going to study themselves." She shooed me out of her room and the sound of my bare feet echoed throughout our manor as I made my way down its hallways. I stopped when I saw the two grand doors that led to our family library. A wave of warm dusty air hit me when I pushed open the doors, enveloping me in a welcoming manner. I let out a tense breath I didn't know I was holding and closed the doors behind me.

The library was beautiful and my favorite place to go when I wanted to be alone. There were two spiral staircases on each side of the dome shaped room that led up to another floor. Huge floor to ceiling windows let in natural light and there were books everywhere. Shelves were packed tight with novels and stories and picture books from all over the world that Father acquired on his journeys. I let the light from the sky light windows soak its warmth into my skin before finally smiling. I was safe here.

My fingers danced in the air above each table of stray books as I strode passed them. I froze and my hand settled on a book about a man who got swallowed by a bird. I flipped to the first page and began reading. Mother would usually disapprove of anything of the sorts for any other one of her daughters. She said that the hobby of reading for fun was for men. She taught all of us how to read, but she mostly had us focus more on knitting and cooking. She especially focused on me in hopes that the more skills I acquired, the more desirable I'd be for any suitor who would ever look my way because somehow without those skills I'd be worth nothing standing next to my sisters.

Cooking, cleaning, knitting, dancing, singing, and painting were the important hobbies of a woman, she said. Book smarts and math were for men for whatever reason. Soon mother gave up her hopes for me and I was allowed to read for fun because I wasn't just any other one of her daughters. I was the ruined daughter of the Vassefort family. This was a horrific title my sisters gave me, but it came with its percs. Some of which being the expectations dropping just a bit for me and a bit more freedom. Mother may have forced me to learn more skills and hobbies, but she didn't expect me to be anything great. Somehow being born differently automatically meant I would amount to nothing.

I perched myself on the railing on the second floor. Some of my hair started to frizz as I rested my head on the window. I hated when Mother put the braid in a bun. It was always tight and uncomfortable. I unpinned the bun and my braid fell down my back. A few minutes went by and I was finally starting to get into the part where the man meets the fox in the bird's stomach. That's when I heard soft laughter from outside. I peered down out the window and saw two of my sisters, Lydia and Lindsey, racing across the field with a few boys. My eyes widened. Father and Mother would kill them if they saw their daughters fiddling around with the Mason boys. I knew that sometimes they snuck off and hung out with them in the village after hours, but so close to the house? They've never been so stupid.

My eyes couldn't help but linger on Ethan, the middle child of the Masons, and the way that the strong winds caressed his light brown hair. I've never seen a man so perfect. I didn't know exactly who I was going to be married to, but I let a secret hope flutter in my stomach that it would be Ethan. He fit the description for who my parents would allow me to marry. My cheeks started to burn at the thought of Ethan as my husband. Great Goddess of Khanaria, that'd be a dream come true. As they got closer a small satisfied smile appeared on my lips as I saw the way his blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled that perfect smile. A smile I wished he would give for me and eyes that I wish would linger on me instead of on Lindsey. My smile disappeared when I saw her return the favor.

If I said I wasn't jealous of Lindsey, or any of my sisters, I'd be lying. Irene, a younger housemaid around my age, told me that it would only make sense for me to be jealous of them. The women in our family are known throughout the land for their beauty. But beauty can be found everywhere in all different types of women. One feature that makes us stand out from the rest of the beautiful women is our hair, which was rarer than a pearl. Brown, black, ginger and sometimes even dark dirty blond was normal. In any other family, I would've been considered beautiful and maybe even been treated better, but in this household it was different. Their pride was set in what made them more beautiful than the "normal" beautiful woman. And I didn't have that feature.

"So you're not ugly," She said, "you're just not exceptional." She then laughed and went on saying that there are plenty of pretty women who work at whorehouses and that I should consider it since no one wants a Vassefort girl with brown hair. My sisters giddily laughed along, encouraging the housemaid when they're instead expected to strike anyone who speaks out their place against our family. But I guess I've never really been considered to deserve the same respect as the others. I couldn't stand up for myself that day and the memory made my face grow redder in shame just like how it did that day. Instead of putting her in her place like I'm expected to do, I just walked away. Sometimes I wish I would've just struck her down and watched my sisters stand there in shock. I sighed and closed my book. No matter how much I wish I would've done that, I know I could never put my hands on anyone.

I thought about our older brother, Louis, and how he would stand up for me when I was younger. He'd stop my sisters from picking one me and he told me that I was still beautiful. When I was nine he decorated my hair in small white flowers like the ones I had today and told me that I looked like a goddess. A goddess of flowers. I smiled harder at the memory, but the smile left just as fast as it came because now Louis was gone. The only person that cared for me abandoned me here and left me to the vultures that I have to call family