Margareta- fear (background)
I am going to write a few short pieces on Margareta's background, events and people that influences her. First- the power of fear:
Barton affected a little cough, not needed of course but it was his tie to humanity, not that he had much left. Margareta always wondered why, despite being told so often not to question. That little cough, hardly more than a clearing of the throat, is what the Low Apprentices around the chantry learnt to listen out for, some even learnt Auspex specifically for it. It was the only warning the Apprentices had of Barton's approach, for he moved wraith like around the corridors of the chantry, seeming to glide around soundlessly.
In her years at Barton's chantry, Margareta had been lucky, she had not been beaten very often, nor had fire used on her more than a few times, and even when Barton did punish her, that was not what frightened her most. For fire hurt, and she hated the smirk on his face as she fought to hold on to her consciousness, but then it was over and she'd be “allowed to thank him” for the punishment, for teaching her, and then the low Apprentice could slink off to her quarters and heal. Most of the time, it meant a few nights of blessed quiet, being left alone while she “meditated on her error”. Even 400 years later, she could hear his voice in her head, the way he said those words.
No, it was a special kind of fear that Barton instilled- intimate, warm and clammy, and always present. Still there, some days, during sleep. When the figure of the old regent broke in on Margareta's thoughts, especially during the day as she lay in her bed, she would experience a jolt in her chest, like the jolt that came from suddenly remembering some terrible instance of wrongdoing, even though she was always conforming to the Pyramid. Even now, thinking of those nights, that chantry, that regent, she felt again those same feelings of objectless guilt, of having failed in some way without knowing how or why.
Her Sire taught her the value of diplomacy, Mondragon the value of knowledge, Blanc taught her the value of power, Astor the value of networking, of having allies to call on.... and Barton taught her the value of fear. She could not rule the way he did. She would not, even if she had it in her. But her time with regent Barton made her aware how very powerful fear was. More powerful than love, more pervasive than anger.
Barton affected a little cough, not needed of course but it was his tie to humanity, not that he had much left. Margareta always wondered why, despite being told so often not to question. That little cough, hardly more than a clearing of the throat, is what the Low Apprentices around the chantry learnt to listen out for, some even learnt Auspex specifically for it. It was the only warning the Apprentices had of Barton's approach, for he moved wraith like around the corridors of the chantry, seeming to glide around soundlessly.
In her years at Barton's chantry, Margareta had been lucky, she had not been beaten very often, nor had fire used on her more than a few times, and even when Barton did punish her, that was not what frightened her most. For fire hurt, and she hated the smirk on his face as she fought to hold on to her consciousness, but then it was over and she'd be “allowed to thank him” for the punishment, for teaching her, and then the low Apprentice could slink off to her quarters and heal. Most of the time, it meant a few nights of blessed quiet, being left alone while she “meditated on her error”. Even 400 years later, she could hear his voice in her head, the way he said those words.
No, it was a special kind of fear that Barton instilled- intimate, warm and clammy, and always present. Still there, some days, during sleep. When the figure of the old regent broke in on Margareta's thoughts, especially during the day as she lay in her bed, she would experience a jolt in her chest, like the jolt that came from suddenly remembering some terrible instance of wrongdoing, even though she was always conforming to the Pyramid. Even now, thinking of those nights, that chantry, that regent, she felt again those same feelings of objectless guilt, of having failed in some way without knowing how or why.
Her Sire taught her the value of diplomacy, Mondragon the value of knowledge, Blanc taught her the value of power, Astor the value of networking, of having allies to call on.... and Barton taught her the value of fear. She could not rule the way he did. She would not, even if she had it in her. But her time with regent Barton made her aware how very powerful fear was. More powerful than love, more pervasive than anger.