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[Ariana Lenoir]

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Ariana rocked gently in the chair as her daughter Catherine slept peacefully in her arms. She didn't care for the child's daily needs such as feeding and diaper changes. Such mundane tasks were better left to trusted servants as Ariana had more important matters to attend to. Although, she left such necessities to her servants, often the task of laying the child to sleep fell to her. She was strong-willed even at this early age. No amount of rocking, singing or cooing by the servants could soothe her when the need for sleep fell upon her. Being in the arms of her mother was all the child wanted. Despite Ariana's lack of what most would call maternal instinct, Ariana would relent to her daughter's pitiful cries. An so it was this evening as it was with most others, she held her and rocked quietly.

It wasn't that she was a horrible mother, she did have some semblance of concern over the child's well being. After all, it was in her best interest that the child remain healthy and live to the age when she would have children of her own to carry on the important lineage that flowed in her blood. However, it wasn't the child's immediate needs that she worried over, but moreover, her future. It was vital that the child be granted recognition and status so that she might have the best chance of finding a future husband that befit her station and rank. Although, she had been born a bastard due to her father's unfortunate decisions, she did have the blood of not only the royal family of Sanctus, but Ariana's own noble bloodline that could be traced back generations. The child must be raised as the blood demanded, as a child of royal blood and if Sanctus refused to acknowledge that than Ariana would simply find another lineage in the child's ancient genealogy to which she would be recognized. Ariana refused to have the child grow up unknown and unrecognized. She was a princess, if not by marriage, than by blood and she would see that her daughter kept her birthright and status at any cost.

Such a requirement had led her to Darrien Church.

He was insane, of that she had absolutely no doubt. However unlike most, she did not see true fault or danger in it. Power had its own curse, especially the metaphysical power that he harnessed. It was understandable and acceptable that his personality and his once human brain might have been altered. Where some might loathe or avoid such personalities, she admired them. They were a true testament to the enduring strength of the brain to overcome and adapt. Insanity wasn't a curse, it was a window into the unknown. It was simply a window through which the impossible became possible and the improbable became reality. The truly insane were not mindless, they were just misunderstood and sometimes the greatest insight into truth was in their ramblings. Most assumed that their view of the world was broken, that it was tarnished. Ariana understood that often times the purest truth came from those not hampered by the expectations of the world. They were not broken. The world was.

Ariana looked down at the sleeping child in her arms and leaned over and placed her lips gently upon her sleeping brow. She whispered softly against that delicate skin, "Worry not, young one. I will see t'it t'at ye get everythin' t'at is yer birthright. Ye will be raised up and placed upon the pedestal we so rightfully deserve even if'n I 'ave t'face Death itself t'see it done." She lifted her head as she looked down upon the young Catherine. There was no genuine look of motherly affection or love in her eyes as she gazed upon her sleeping daughter, only a cold and ruthless determination.
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