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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine	By : lilwitch Category: +S through Z > Street Fighter Views: 3420 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: WARNING: Graphic violence and abuse depicted in this story. Read at your own discretion! I do not own Street Fighter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Author's Disclaimer: This story contains content of a highly disturbing psychological nature that may be offensive to some readers: including but not limited to abuse, rape, and torture/violence. Please DO NOT read if you are likely to be offended! STREET FIGHTER and characters such as Vega are owned by CAPCOM. I make no profit in this work of fiction. For entertainment only.

She regarded me anxiously as I entered her room.
“You look beautiful, Mama!” I exclaimed; I smiled and kissed her cheeks ceremoniously.
She held the sides of her gown and looked away, her beautiful figure draped in a shimmery pale blue dress; a full skirt with a layer of shimmering opaque fabric on top. It had an off-the-shoulder bodice and exposed the pale olive-colored flesh of her décolletage, though it was not enough to be immodest; my mother, though she loved beauty and fashion, was often humble of her own appearance.
Her hair was done up in a chignon, curled tendrils of her golden blonde hair framed the sides of her face. She often wore it up, but now she wore a tiara and a diamond-studded barrette was on one side. Her blue eyes sparkled and gleamed like the diamond-studded jewelry she wore on her neck and her ears.
Tonight once again was the Ambassador's Ball and a million frightening memories ran through her mind. After all, it had been 3 years since that horrid night when Father had so brutally raped and beaten her in front of me, and 3 years since she had attended the very same grand ball, held each year by the Ambassador of Spain. She was so frightened by that night that she never wanted to go again but I knew this time would be different. This time, I could protect her.
I took her hands in mine to calm her and she clutched them tight, her eyes flashing as her mind raced. Finally, she spoke.
“Vega, I don’t want go,” she said uneasily. Her red lips quivered as she forced herself to smile at me, her only son. Their redness reflected on her skin with the warm glow of the lamp and the cool wash of the moon shining behind her. Her cheeks glowed softly red, flushed with color and then paled again.
“It's all right, Mother. I am stronger now, I can protect you.” I said and her frantic eyes seemed to read the proud assurance that gleamed in mine. She swallowed hard, no doubt fighting back her tears and yet, she smiled.
“Besides, Mother, I think it’s time all those men in their tuxes and medals saw you. They need to see the beautiful woman they can’t have, and Father needs to see the beautiful woman he doesn’t deserve.” She shut her eyes tight, pursing her lips, holding back her tears as best she could and then, she opened them.
With a trembling soft voice, she exclaimed,
“Oh! You look so handsome!” and she laid a hand on my arm.
I looked back in her mirror and then at her and I straightened my black tuxedo jacket with a proud nod. I did not prefer tuxes, and I was positive no other man did either. Still, I was dressed my best for this formal occasion, in a typical black tuxedo with white dress-shirt; my hair pulled back more tightly than usual into a long, blonde braid that hung down my back. Only scarce tendrils of my hair hung around my face.
“Shall we go, Mother?” I said, offering her my arm. She took her arm in mine and I could feel her trembling.
She looked at me, still quite unsure one last time as we headed out the door, and as she looked at me, I felt as though she had forgotten who I was for just a moment. Was I her son or her guard, I did not know. I was unusually tall for my age of 16 now, standing at nearly 6 feet tall, a full foot taller than my mother! Now, I was poised to guard her with my life and I held myself with all the confidence of an older man.
Mother and Father always took separate cars to events but always arrived together. It was a well-known secret in society. I was glad, as I did not think the two of them would live in the same space for long. We approached the Ambassador's mansion, and waited in the corridor to be announced.
“don Miguel Fabio de Cerna Domingo, the baron of Catalonia, and his wife doña Victoria Maria de Cerna y la Serda, the baroness of Catalonia; their son, don Vega Fabio de Cerna y la Serda.” said the usher as my parents walked slowly down the red carpeted steps, arm in arm. I followed quickly behind, a proud smile on my face. As they broke away, Father shot an icy glare and held firm to her elbow.
“Don't wander far, dear,” he growled. She quickly cast her eyes down and moved to the opposite side of the room. I stood next to her for comfort. I began to scan the room for suitable girls to talk to and maybe, do other things with later...
“Don't worry, Mama,” I said as I scanned the room. I started to move toward the dance floor where the guests were congregating and Mother grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. Worry was on her face.
“Please don’t leave me here,” she pleaded.
“It’s alright, Mother. I won’t let the naughty men hurt you,” I teased.
“It’s-it’s not the men I’m afraid of…” she stammered. She had absolutely no sense of humor when she was frightened!
I pulled her almost forcefully along, walking among the crowd of people.
“How nice to see you again, Mrs. de Cerna!” they exclaimed as we passed by. The crowd of people seemed to blur into a sea, their voices swirled around us. I looked ahead and saw my father and his mistress. He did not see us but his mistress caught me with a wink and swiftly turned him away so he would not see us as we passed. She and I had an uneasy peace in our house. My father openly flaunted her, making sure my mother knew she was in the house just to torment her.
We seemed to wander aimlessly among the people, not finding a single suitable person with whom to talk. Every now and again, handsome men would glance at my mother and give her a charming smile. She would smile back and turn away, like a shy girl.
Deeper and deeper we seemed go into the ocean of people and until we stopped in the corner of the room.
“Oh, Vega, why have we come?” she moaned, “It is only another excuse for him to lose his temper!”
“Because, Mother. You are a woman in society and society women have to make an appearance, don’t they?” I said matter-of-factually and she knew it was true.
“I suppose…” said Mother, with a far off look in her eye, humoring me like a contemptuous child.
“And besides, you know as well as I do that Father doesn't need an excuse to lose his temper.”
“Oh I always hated going to these things, you know! Your father only goes to get in good graces with the King and the Prime Minister.”
“I thought he spoke often with His Majesty?” I exclaimed. “He talks as if he knows the King personally,”
“The truth is His Majesty cannot stand your father!” She said with a laugh.
“And how did you know that?”
“I overheard the King once at another political event I was forced to attend!” She said with a wink. “Our country has struggled much over the years in the arms of its leaders, and while your father might brag, he really has very little political influence left anymore.”
“Yes, I know.” I said with a sigh. “Shall we dance?” I asked taking her hand as a waltz began to play in the background.
She hesitated to move.
“Do you remember the steps I taught you, Vega?” she asked, as I took her hand in mine and wrapped the other delicately around her waist.
“Yes, Mother, very well.” I replied as we began to move.
I felt her body tense as she pressed her cheek against my shoulder; I could smell the light scent of her powder and perfume.
“Relax,” I whispered in her ear. “Let them see you.” She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut.
“You can do this. You taught me, remember.”
“That has nothing to do with it.” she murmured and she inhaled deeply and sighed.
I felt her body finally relax as she posed herself elegantly, her arm bent and hand on my shoulder, lightly touching; she felt delicate in my arms. Mother smiled as we picked up the pace a little and I could see a light in her eyes that was no longer fearful. She seemed younger than she was just dancing with me, as if every turn and every step could erase the lines on her face, the scars on her body, and the fear in her heart.
Mother tipped back her head at each turn to strike a pose, and she began to laugh. This was something I had seen so little of but now she seemed to be a new woman. I could not help but to smile seeing the joy that spread across her face, an angelic glow all around her. The room spun around us and I held her tight. And then, the song was over. Holding fast to my shoulders, she fell forward against me, out of breath and still laughing. She wobbled on her high heels.
“I haven't had so much fun in such a long time!” she exclaimed, “thank you.”
As my mother steadied on her feet again, I whispered,
“See, I told you. I knew you would be all right. Now they have all seen you and now they will all want to dance with you!” Mother grinned now, almost glowing.
Suddenly, the Ambassador approached us with another man.
“Buenas noches.” said the Ambassador as he took my mother’s hand and I frowned.
“Ambassador!” exclaimed Mother, emphatically striking her chest with her hand in surprise. I could not tell if she was merely exaggerating or if she was that surprised to see him.
“Señora de Cerna, such a pleasure to see you here again. You know, we have wondered where you have been for the last 3 three years. Certainly, you are one of the loveliest baronesses in this country!” Mother blushed and looked down as if she were a coy girl. I bit my bottom lip and continued to watch this dignitary closely.
“Encantada, Señor,” she replied softly.
“Good to see you again, Vega.” beamed the Ambassador. “Señora Victoría, have you met Baron Gualdera?” A handsome man, about the same age as Mother, stepped forward. He had dark hair and eyes, like most in Spain it seemed. I wondered where he was from.
“Pleased to meet you, Señora de Cerna. I am Baron Marc Antoní Gualdera.” And he took my mother’s hand and kissed it. He caught my stern glance and smiled at me as he looked up from her hand.
“Uh-Ambassador, Baron, this is my son, Vega.” said mother, laying a hand on my shoulder and gesturing towards me with the other.
“Ah, yes, Vega! It is an honor to see you again!” replied the Ambassador, shaking my hand. He beamed proudly at me. “I often attend your fights and I must say you are very good for your age! How old are you now? Eight-teen? Twenty?” I chuckled.
“No, I am 16.”
“Oh of course! It must be your height that makes you seem so much older.” I sighed and smirked.
“It’s all right. I get that often from people.”
“You have to tell me all about your last bullfight! I am dying to hear,” exclaimed the Ambassador warmly as he laid a hand on my shoulder.
The baron laid his hand on my mother’s arm.
“Señora de Cerna, you are very lovely. Would you like something to drink?” he asked her. Again I saw her cheeks flush pink against her pale skin and then I saw a look of terror suddenly come back into her eyes, as if something startled her.
“N-no, thank you, Baron. It is very kind of you…” he smiled and bought my mother’s hand to his lips. She pulled it away before he could kiss it.
“Baron, Si us plau, perdona.” He looked quite distraught at her reaction.
“Are you okay, Señora de Cerna? Have I said something to offend you?”
“I-I am fine,” she stammered.
She smiled weakly in reassurance, the usual smile she had when she was sad or scared, and it hardly did anything to hide her feelings. She of course smiled often this night and I knew the reasons.
I knew she could feel my father’s eyes boring into the back of her head and I looked quickly over my shoulder, but he was not there. It did not matter, though. His dominion over her was nearly omnipotent. She feared his wrath and we knew it was imminent.
I could not help to notice the young Baron, how handsome and beautiful he was—he was nearly as beautiful as me—still, I knew the look in his eyes; it was a predatory look of hunger and he was looking at my mother.
I shifted uncomfortably as I listened to the Ambassador ramble on about his praises of me and normally, I would have devoted my full attentions to such a thing, but any moment now, that Baron would have my mother and I could not allow it.
“Mother, are you all right?” I whispered, trying to break her focus on the man.
“Yes, Dear. I’m fine.” she replied. She looked at me and I could see the fear still on her face.
“Are you certain? I can get you something to drink. You look as though you need it.” Offered the baron once more, hoping to change her fearful expression. A smile spread slowly across her face.
“Yes, please,” she replied as she took his arm. The Baron winked at me as they found the refreshment table. I watched them carefully, each gesture and movement made. They seemed to laugh and smile at each other, my mother occasionally placing her hand lightly on his arm. I scowled and bit my lip.
“You know, Señora de Cerna, I would have never guessed you were Vega’s mother!” said the baron as he scooped up some punch for my mother. She blushed and covered her mouth, only half-hiding her smile.
“Please…” she said modestly.
“Ay, on the blood of my mother, I swear, his older sister, maybe…but one such as you never looks as though you should be a mother.”
“And what should a mother look like then?” she asked, bemused. “Older?” she said with a grin.
He smiled, admonishing to her advances.
“Ay, please, Señora! I cannot be held responsible for what you say.” And she giggled.
“It must be so nice having such a caring son!” he said, looking at me through the corner of his eye.
“Oh, ah, yes—”
“He must make you feel so loved, so…safe.” And as the baron spoke, she turned to him sharply.
“What do you mean, Baron?” she asked, her voice lowered in suspicion. He laid his hand on her arm gently and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Oh now, Señora. Why do you startle so?” he said gently and she looked down in shame.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, looking up at him again nervously.
“Well, he’s a bright boy, you know and his talents are to be admired by all. Still, I see nothing wrong with him being a Mama’s-boy.”
“Mama’s-boy?” she exclaimed with a chuckle, “He is no such thing! He is strong and brave, very independent. He doesn’t need me…” and she trailed off, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.
Taking a sip of his drink and sensing this, he leaned forward to whisper into her ear.
“Boys will always need their mothers. When you danced, it was easy to see the love he has for you.” She smiled uneasily and then he spoke again aloud.
“You know, when they told us you had fallen down your staircase 3 years ago, we worried about you! We were told you would not walk again.”
She gasped and he leaned in close to her face and stroked it gently.
“I know what happened…” he whispered and Mother’s eyes filled with panic. “I want to help you.”
“No, it isn’t so!” she cried in alarm.
The baron cupped her jaw in his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb.
“It is not just a shadow in the light that shows under your eye,” and he rubbed over a darkened bruise on her cheek gently once more. “Only so much powder can cover such a mark on your lovely skin,” and she covered her eyes in terror.
“No, please don’t,” she moaned from beneath her hands.
“No, no, Señora, don’t be afraid,” he said smoothly as he lifted her hands from her face.
“Come away with me.”
“Baron,” she said, her tone dropping seriously. “I am a married woman!”
“Ah yes, but you do not love him…” he asserted smugly.
“I’ve only just met you! I can’t do such a thing, and I would never leave my son!”
“You don’t have to leave him. He can come too, certainly.”
“Baron…”
I sighed heavily and clenched my fists watching the horrid display before me.
“I wouldn’t worry much about Señor Gauldera, Vega.” said the Ambassador suddenly and I turned to him.
“He’s always quite the charmer with women, especially at these events, and your mother is quite lovely…” he explained as I looked to see the Ambassador staring at her.
“Excuse me, Ambassador,” I said sharply, “but she is my mother.” and with that, I proceeded to the refreshment table. I approached as briskly as I could and I seemed to startle them as they turned to me.
“Oh, hello, dear! Are you thirsty?” asked Mother, her cheeks flushed.
“No, I’m fine, but you look like you need a drink though, Mother.” I said bitterly and she gasped.
“Vega—” she exclaimed angrily at my insinuation.
The baron cleared his throat at the tense situation and then gestured towards me with a grin.
“You know, you’re very good for your age, I think!”
“What?” I cried as I was so focused on his attentions to my mother that I did not see that he had turned to me.
“Bullfighting, of course!”
I saw my mother sigh and roll her eyes but she said nothing. I knew how she felt about the matter of course; at least she had the sense not to bring it up in front of the man.
“So you’ve said,” I replied bitterly, the bile beginning to rise in my throat. I did my best to swallow it down again.
“Señora de Cerna, will you please excuse us a moment? I’d like to have a chat with your son.”
“Of course.” she replied with a smile.
The baron draped his arm around my shoulder and we walked in the opposite direction from my mother, walking nowhere in particular. We seemed to walk for a few minutes before we spoke.
“Vega, I see a lot of potential for you.” he said after a silence.
“What do you mean?”
“Vega, have you heard of cage fighting?” I stopped and turned towards him.
“Cage fighting? What about it?” I exclaimed and he chuckled.
“Do you know of Savate?”
“Yes, French kick-boxing.” I replied, he smiled and patted my shoulder. It was a crude form of boxing adapted by men on the streets of Paris through out the 18^th century. It had since spread throughout parts of my country and other parts of Europe.
“You think I could be a cage fighter?” I asked, my interest beginning to peak.
“I’ll be honest with you, Vega. I have never in all my years of witnessing bullfights seen anyone with as much power and grace as you. Such beauty is rare among those in your art!” I rolled my eyes. As much as I enjoyed his appeals to my ego, he had a blatantly obnoxious quality that bothered me.
“Baron, I appreciate your—” and I paused for the right word, “enthusiasm but, I don’t see—”
“I would sponsor you!” he interjected eagerly and I blinked for a moment in shock.
“Besides, call me Marc Antoni. ‘Baron’ is so formal and it and we don't really use it these days.” I nodded in agreement.
It was true; in recent years, losing a dictator and regaining a king did nothing to bolster the power or prestige of having a title of nobility. My family kept their title and my father was very proud of his heritage, but I always knew he had ties to the Generalissimo's Regime. Now the Ambassador was a long-winded man, full of pompous prestige that came with his title. Addressing Señor Gauldera as a Baron only seemed fitting to him.
“You want to sponsor me?”I asked, gesturing to myself.
“I would train you!” he exclaimed.
“Train me? Sponsor me?” I exclaimed. “Baron—pues, Marc Antoni,” I corrected myself, “are you telling me that you know Savate?”
“Yes! I learned it when I was your age, actually. Kept me quite fit and I loved the challenge! Ay, there's nothing like the rush you get in defeating your opponent!”
“I know the feeling. Nothing's more exhilarating than out-witting a bull.” I agreed and he smirked at me. I must say that even as I said it, comparing the defeat of a bull to that of a person started to seem no longer as exciting.
“Out-witting? Is that how you see it, Vega?”
“Yes, bulls are dumb, brutish animals and I am a man. I am smarter and more handsome than it, and it is my right to conquer such a dumb, ugly animal.” I replied. I gazed across the room and he followed my gaze to my father. “Ugliness is a sin, an abomination before God.” I said resolutely. Señor Gaudera nodded knowingly and I looked at him, my eyes flashing passionately.
“Don't you agree?”
“Oh, yes, I do, but there is so much ugliness in the world, Vega! Why do you suppose that He allows it to exist?”
“I don't know but I know one thing: I'll never be ugly. Never.”
“No, you won't, and judging by the press, bulls are not thing only thing you conquer!” he said with a chuckle.
“With my strength and agility, my beauty, all women want me. I have as many as I want and what I cannot have, I take.”
“My, Vega!” he exclaimed, “and how do they like it when you take them?” I could hear the perversion dripping in his voice, a wicked grin on his face.
“Well, let's just say that the scars on my back are not from the bulls!” I replied with a smug grin.
True he did not have to know that half of those scars were from the ever frequent violent skirmishes with my father as of late.
“A real lady-killer you are! What would your mother think?” he teased and I whirled around.
“She doesn't know and she doesn't need to know. My mother doesn't concern you!” I hissed angrily. He put his hands up defensively.
“Easy now, boy. I was only kidding. God knows that it would break a mother's heart to know half the things her son does without her knowledge!”
“And you! What do you know about my mother, hm? Are you seducing her with your charm, ready to catch her when you sweep her off her feet?” I sneered. The baron, still raising his hands stood as he sputtered before me.
“I meant no harm! It was only a little harmless flirting!” he exclaimed.
“I saw you: the way you touched her face and leaned in close to whisper in her ear, smelling her perfume!” I spat.
The baron stifled a laugh and raised his eyebrows, suddenly no longer threatened by me.
“Why? Isn’t that what you do with all the girls that you seduce? Tell me, have you smelt her perfume?” he said as he finally released the laugh he held. “You know, I've heard what they say about you and your mother...” he said, his words dripping from his mouth like venom. I could feel my blood boiling, and he made it boil almost as much as my father did.
“You know nothing! Nothing!” I screamed angrily.
The baron seemed amused at my anger.
“Vega, a temper like yours is going to get you in trouble.” he said ever so smugly.
I wanted nothing to do with this man and his smugness, or his intentions with my mother. I wanted now just to wipe the smile from his face with my fist.
I threw a punch at his face and to my surprise, he blocked it with his arm and I suddenly felt his other fist connect with the edge of my mouth. Before I knew what happened, I fell to the floor as he swept his leg underneath me. Holding the side of my mouth and horrified at the blood, I looked up at the smiling baron.
“You bastard! My face! My beautiful face!” I roared as I sat up on my elbows.
I could taste some of my blood in my mouth, the same bittersweet tanginess I had savored much as of late; though it did not taste as sweet, and I knew it was the taste of my own defeat.
His dark eyes twinkled as he smirked at me.
“This is your first lesson, Vega.” he said, offering his hand. I refused to take it and a shocked crowd began to gather around us. “And- I was also going to say: that I knew it wasn’t true…about you and your mother, but someone’s temper got the better of them…” he whispered through his hand and he smiled at me with a wink. I saw his dark eyes glinting with some sort of mischief as I felt my cheeks flush and burn with humiliation.
“Vega!” I heard the shrill cry of my mother as she broke through the crowd. She gasped as she saw me on the ground and tried to help me up. I was not about to be embarrassed by her though, and I reluctantly grabbed the baron's extended hand as he pulled me back up again. I tried to straighten my tux and the baron handed me his handkerchief. I wiped the corner of my mouth and frowned at the sight of my own blood staining his pure white handkerchief.
“Déu meu! Vega, you are bleeding! Señor Gauldera, what have you done to my son?” she demanded, gently examining my mouth and then glaring at the man.
“I-I am very sorry, Señora. I didn't mean to hurt the boy. I was merely showing him some of my skill as a fighter.” apologized the baron but at the mention of fighting, she scowled at him even more. I saw a fierceness emerge from her that I had so rarely seen in her growing up. It was not often she was brave enough to defend herself, let alone me. Her blue eyes flashed with anger and I felt her grab my arm tightly.
“Mother, I'm alright!” I protested, but it went unheard.
“He will have none of it! None of it! Do you understand, Baron?” she hissed.
“Sí, Señora de Cerna. I beg you will forgive me.” said the baron with his eyes downcast and I believe he trying to show her he was truly sorry, but I alone could see the cold smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth; the same place where mine now bled.
Mother led me firmly by the arm now and I could not stop her.
“Mother, please! Stop!” I cried helplessly, nearly being dragged away. She was headed to the back of the room, towards an alcove with two large white marble pillars on either side. Adjacent to this were large French doors that held the corridor to the coat room—and the back exit. I had spent a lot of time in this alcove and even in the coat room seducing girls before this. It was also where my father liked to take his mistress to be alone…
“We are going home. Now.” she said in a tone that I knew I could not deny. I finally freed myself from her grasp, standing in front of her so she could not leave. I held the handkerchief to my mouth, frowning contemptuously. Mother reached up and brushed hair from my face and looked at my mouth once more. She sighed heavily.
“Oh my precious Narcís, what have you gotten yourself into these days?” I removed the handkerchief from my mouth and she reached to touch it. Narcís was a nickname she had taken to bestowing upon me with mild amusement towards my growing concerns with my appearance. It meant

“Narcissus” in Catalan and I believe it had a far better sound than the original name.
“May I use your compact, Mama? Please tell me you have it with you!” I cried desperately.
She smiled and shook her head, digging through her purse for her mirror and then she handed it to me. I touched my mouth and admired my face, ensuring no other damage had been done.
“What's going on back here?” said my father's gruff voice as we turned to see him coming towards us with his mistress hanging on his arm. Mother stepped behind me.
“That's right, Victoria. Hide behind your Nancy-boy...” he sneered and he ripped the handkerchief from my hands and I felt my stomach lurch at his slur of me.
“What's this, boy? I heard you were fighting, with Marc Antoní Gauldera!” I glared at him and tried to control myself long enough to speak.
“Yes...” I murmured.
“He's the wrong man to fight. He is an accomplished fighter already. You ought to be beat just for losing! No son of mine is a loser in this house!” he exclaimed.
“Leave him alone, Miguel! He's had enough punishment for one night! We're going home!” exclaimed Mother, bravely stepping forward. Father had a cruel smirk on his face as he approached her.
“Look at you, Victoria! One night at a dance and you've suddenly forgotten your place! We'll soon have to fix that!”
I could see the panic spreading across her face as she stepped back from him. I could smell alcohol on his breath, though I knew he did not need any to be cruel.
“Signore, I think you've had a bit too much tonight.” chimed in his Mistress, peering from behind his shoulder. He immediately backhanded her face and she went flying to the ground.
“Silence, bitch! You do not tell me what to do!” he roared at her as she was sprawled out on the floor. She nodded obediently as he pulled her up by the arm.
“Señor, is there a problem?” asked an usher, alarmed by all the commotion and my father whirled around. The usher stepped back, somewhat frightened by his abrupt demeanor.
“Sir, others saw the commotion and were concerned. This kind of thing isn't tolerated here and we'll have to ask you to leave...”
“Leave?” hissed Father almost shrilly, his tone rising. “I was invited by the Ambassador himself! I will not leave! And I assure you there's no problem. Only...a misunderstanding.” he said coldly as he looked back at us with a rather sinister glare. The usher nervously cleared his throat.
“I see. Sir, if you would please come with me. The Ambassador wishes to speak with you,” he said, gesturing in front of him.
“The Ambassador! I haven't spoken with him all night! Please, lead the way!” exclaimed Father rather boisterously, his tone suddenly changed. I watched his mistress give me a rather helpless glance over his shoulder as he dragged her along by her arm. I felt Mother shaking as she pressed her face against my back and I knew she was crying. I turned and held her against my chest, her head neatly fitting under my chin. I rubbed and patted her back and she clutched my braid.
“I hate him...” she sobbed. “I hate him.”
“So do I, Mama.” I said softly as I gently pried her fingers from my hair and I could feel my body begin to tense with anger again. I bit my lip as I tried to push the recent embarrassment of my mother's interference away but it was no use. Her treatment of me was becoming increasingly unbearable and I tried to ignore the fact that her blackened tears were soon going to stain my clean white dress-shirt.

I sat in the back of the car next to her as we returned home that night, and she squeezed my hand with a far-off gaze.
“Mama,” I said.
“Hm?” she said without batting an eye.
“What would you say if I promised to protect you?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“If I knew how to protect you, would you let me?”
“I-I still don't understand, Vega.”
“Mama,” I said seriously, looking at her and I shook her hand gently. “I can protect you.”
She looked at me, her blue eyes confused and somewhat terrified.
“I'm going to learn to fight.” I replied.
“What? No!” she cried, “I forbid it!” I laughed and shook my head.
“No, you won’t. I'll do it anyway.” Her eyes widened and she sputtered.
“Vega de Cerna, you-you will respect me!” she cried angrily. “I forbid you.”
“Respect you? Respect you?” I shrieked mockingly, “Respect you like Father does?” I sneered, grabbing her shoulders. “Oh! Like when he ‘respects’ you so much he beats you for not respecting him!” and as I shook her she began to cry. I raised my hand and she cowered as she cried; but instead slapping her, I laid the back of my hand against her cheek gently, wiping her blackened tears. I leaned in close to her ear and said,
“I would never hit you, Mama. I do respect you. I love you. You should never fear the ones you love.” I said as I took her hand from her face and she looked at me slowly. I took her hand in mine once more.
“I don't want you to be afraid anymore.”
“And I don't want you to be like your father!” she cried tearfully. I grimaced at the thought; how could she possibly think I would become as ugly as he? It insulted me every time she accused me of being like Father whenever I found a new pursuit that she disagreed with. I sighed and rolled my eyes at her and I felt my blood beginning to boil.
“Learning how to defend myself does not make me like him. I hate it when you compare me, Mother--and-and dragging me out of that room like I was some…child! Seriously, Mother!” I scoffed.
“I-I don't want you to get hurt and besides, you are a child. You are my child.” she said, sniffing.
“A child?” I cried with a laugh. “That's not what you think of me when you look up at me with such fear in your eyes and I have to hold you until you stop shaking--”
How could he speak to me this way? She thought frantically. He's become so cruel lately. I don't think I can bear this much longer.
“Stop!” she interjected tearfully, grabbing my arm desperately, but I continued.
“That's not what you think of me when I sleep beside you each night, protecting you from the dark and those things that come in it—the very thing you should have been saving me from—I've felt his blows too, Mama. Or have you forgotten that I was not always your savior? Have you forgotten that it was me whom you had to protect when I was a child?” I said, squeezing her shoulder, trying to make her look at me but she refused. Mother bit her lip and hugged her arms and I could see her muscles tensing, her knuckles whitening by the minute.
I never knew how much he resented me. What have I done to him? He can't be speaking like this.
“No..no...no...” she wailed. He can't know the truth...I never meant...
“No, Mama. You don't want a child, no, no. You want a man, don't you? A big, handsome strong man to protect you; keep you warm, keep you safe...you wanted--”
No! He isn't! What is he saying? That I? Oh no. I suppose I have depended on him too long, but to have those feelings...does he truly understand what that means? I could never have those kinds of feelings for him...could I? Oh, dear God, if he should want me... He has to stop this!
“Stop it, Vega!” she cried again. I grinned smug in my righteousness and my blue eyes flashed.
“...Me,” I whispered, a wicked grin spread across my face, and I watched her gasp and sputter in horror of the truth. She seemed to tremble even more than before as I continued my ruthless tirade. “You were so helpless back then when you asked for my help; I helped dress you, I bathed your wounds. Do you think that is something that a child should do?” My righteousness indignation was only eclipsed by the delight I took in making her suffer for her sins.
Oh he's so cruel! Can't he see that he's hurting me? Stop!
“Basta ya!” she screamed, covering her mouth. Stop! Her thoughts and her words now echoed loudly in her mind. Mama had never screamed like that before and I stared at her in stunned silence and after an awkward pause, she continued. “I saw what happened to you tonight. Bullfighting, fighting. Why must you be involved in such dangerous activities?”
“Because are they are fun, Mother! Something I don't think you know much about these days; and besides, I am doing it for you!” I sneered.
“You are not, Vega de Cerna! You are doing it for yourself. Ay, what a selfish son I have.”
I snickered again.
“Selfish!” I cried, “You are the selfish one. You are the one trying to keep me from enjoying myself!”
I could never be so selfish! A mother could never see her son die. I wish you could understand...If I lost you, my heart would die. How then would I be able to survive around that monster without you? I cannot live without you... she thought.
She continued hugging herself and she stared out the window. I wondered what she could possibly see, trying to stare out a blackened window in the middle of the night.
“Mama, do you have any idea how much I make as a matador? Not only that—the top matador in all Spain? I make enough to buy anything I want and still have more than enough to treat you as the queen you are. It will never be in question how you will live now. I was on 6 magazine covers this month alone!” I paused for dramatic effect, hoping the reality would soon sink into her mind and I continued, “Raoul, my manager…you remember him, don’t you?” I said with a smirk. “He says that I am definitely one of the youngest matadors he’s ever managed! I have a monumental success rate at my fights, in fact. You would know this, Mother, if you came to any.”
Indeed, it had been several months since she last attended my bullfight, even after I had gotten her to go with me. She looked like she was finally okay with it when she was there but I suppose I was wrong. Not even our priest could convince her otherwise!
Oh so heartless and cruel...I cannot bear him anymore like this. So beautiful and so, so cruel. Did I make him this way? He grows more like this father everyday. It must be my sin...God, please, I know his beauty is a sin, and I have made him prideful, and I know I have sinned for admiring his beauty, but please, forgive me. Don't let him torture me anymore...
“Vega, I do not wish to argue anymore. I just want to go home and sleep.” She said finally. Her voice was getting hoarse. I knew she was tired and I knew she was angry, so I decided to drop the argument for the time being. She sighed heavily. Thank you, Lord...
“Don't worry, Mama. We'll be home soon,” I assured her. I laid my head on her shoulder and looked at her lovingly, waiting for her acknowledgment—a touch of my face, a stroke of my hair, her serene smile—but none came. I could see her frown but she was silent. It was unbearable but I had no choice but to endure it.
The car finally made its climb down the long stretching drive way, lined with trees that slowly revealed our mansion. It stood like a hauntingly tall figure, illuminated only by the moonlight. I got out of the opposite car door and met the driver as he came around from the front to open my mother's door. I stopped him.
“I'll do it,” I said as I opened her door. The driver gave a slight bow and nodded.
“Sí, Señor.”
Elegantly she pushed her legs out of the door one at a time and I took her hand to help her out of the car; she looked at me wearily. We said nothing as I closed the door and we walked into the house. The house was quiet and dark. All of the servants had gone to bed hours ago and there was no one to let us in save the butler, who also was in bed when we arrived, as evidenced by his robe.
“Has my father come home?” I asked him.
“No, Señor, he and his lady have not. Will there be anything else?” I looked at Mother and she rolled her eyes in disdain at the mention of her husband's mistress, and I shook my head. He shifted his gaze downward as he saw his Mother's disdainful look.
“Very well. Hasta la mañana, doña de Cerna y Señor Vega.” said the butler with a polite nod and turning to go back up the staircase to his room.
Suddenly, my mother cried out in pain and I caught her as she slowly fell to the floor.
“What is it, Mama?” I cried in concern.
“Oh...it's nothing... My hips hurt, probably from the dancing.”
“Can you walk?” I asked.
“I'm...not sure.” she said, squeezing her eyes shut in pain.
I lifted her up by her arms and she stood shakily on her feet. I wrapped her arm around my neck and swept her body into my arms.
“Està bé, Mama. I got you,” I cooed as I started to carry her to her room.
She knew that anything too strenuous could hurt her again but this night, she paid no heed.
“Drunk off her feet again, I see.” said Father as he walked in the door, his mistress in toe. I turned to him.
“I-I'm not drunk, Miguel.” she said through her pain.
“Oh really, my dear? The way you whored yourself around all night, men hanging around you like lost dogs, you flirted like a wanton slut with that baron...you could've fooled me! And now I see you've managed to whore yourself to your own son!”
“I can't walk!” she cried angrily.
He chuckled with a wicked sneer.
“Yes, no doubt from spreading your legs for so long! How was she, boy?” I nearly dropped Mother in my furor at his dirty insinuation, so I gently let her down on the cold marble floor.
He laughed even louder and I unbuttoned my shirt, rolled up my sleeves, and loosened my bow tie.
“Vega, don't!” cried Mother, side-sitting on the floor. “He's only drunk. I don't want any more trouble tonight.”
“Victoria, you have disrespected me and my family tonight. Now crawl.”
“What?” she gasped.
“If you won't walk, you'll crawl to me. Crawl.” he commanded.
I held out my hand to Mother and looked back at her.
“Don't, Mama.” I said. She shook her head, large tears again rolling down her cheeks.
“He'll only be angrier if I don't obey him,”
“Don't do it!” I exclaimed. “I'm not going to let you get beat again. Let me handle this. I can do it.”
“I'm waiting, Victoria. You promised to love, honor, and obey me, now do it!” he called. As he stood there, he undid his belt-buckle and unzipped his pants. He then forced his mistress to her knees before him.
“See? Even my own whore respects me more than you!” he gloated. Mother looked away, repulsed. My stomach churned and I turned away also, too disgusted to watch.
I squatted down to comfort her as she cried.
“Don't worry! It'll be okay, I promise.” I whispered, trying desperately to ignore the depraved display before me.
“God you two make me sick!” he hissed, grabbing fist-full’s of the Italian woman's hair as her head bobbed back and forth. “Perhaps you should breast-feed him you while you two are down there!” He made a loud grunt and stroked the woman's hair as if she were a pet, and then unceremoniously pushed her away, zipping up his pants. The woman rose, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, wobbling on her high heels and looking at him in annoyance. She gave us a concerned glance as she left the room, but I didn't care even if she lay dead on the floor.
“I'm going to slit his throat!” I hissed angrily.
“Oh God! Vega, no!” she cried, grabbing my arm.
I frowned and shook my arm free, starting towards the horrid lewd drunken man.
“Aw, come to defend your Mama, boy?” sneered my father as he tucked his shirt back in.
“You will never touch her again, old man!” I cried, throwing a punch at him. He blocked it, hitting me in the jaw and knocking me to the floor. He looked at my mother, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with wicked intent. She began to back away but she found herself against the wall.
“I guess some whores have to be taught!” he said as he came towards her. “How did you like my little demonstration, Victoria dear?” Mother cried and whimpered, resigning herself to fate. “Now, you should know by now when I command you, you will obey!” He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to her knees and pinning her face against his thigh. I recovered as quickly as I could and tried to lunge at him. She fought to push away but he held fast a painful grip on her hair.
“No, please, no. No, not again...” she wailed, her body shook violently and she could feel herself begin to paralyze in fear.
I tackled the old man with all of my strength, knocking him to the floor and my mother landed back on the floor, away from him. I quickly laid a solid punch to his stomach and a few to his face. I hit whatever I thought I could touch. As I hit him, a thought entered my mind about Señor Gauldera and his Savate. What power could I possess with such a skill? For the moment though, I was happy to beat this ugly man's face to a bloody pulp. With a roar, he was able to push me off, drawing a pocket knife.
Before I knew it, he had me pinned beneath him, the knife inches away from my precious face. I put up my arms to shield my face and I felt the blade cut into my hands a few times.
A piercing scream shattered my concentration as soon found myself atop him again, the knife sticking from his chest, blood pouring from the wound. I was sweating and shaking, a rush of adrenaline and euphoria pulsing through my body. An irrepressible smile spread on my face as I saw the pooling blood beneath him and his eyes staring back with a dead light. I dipped my index finger in the blood and drew a cross on my forehead; I knew now I was the anointed one, the one that God had chosen to save her from the evil of this world, for if He had not ordained it, this man surely would not be dead.
In the back of my mind, the essence of reality seemed to creep back in as I realized my mother was lying helplessly on the floor. And so I crawled off the creature and crawled over to my pure and innocent mother, who was propped up by a marble pillar. She was still, her crystal blue eyes wide but lifeless and they seemed to sparkle distantly. She said nothing, and I was not even sure she was breathing until I felt her faint warm breath against my cheek as I leaned in close to feel it. Mother was as white as the marble she lay upon, as delicate as a statue. I touched her face cautiously.
“Mother?” I said, pressing my ear to her chest and listening for a heartbeat. It was there alright, her breathing was steady but soft. I pressed her hand to my cheek.
“Mother, I did it!” I cried anxiously. Her eyes did not see me, though I wished desperately that they had. I kissed her palm and held it tenderly. I gasped as I felt something wet beneath me and realized in horror that she was so frightened she had lost her bladder. My stomach churning in disgust, I scooped her into my arms, shakily continuing to carry her to her room. My euphoria grew as I held her in my arms, gazing lovingly at her and knowing that she and I would be free—free to start a new life.
Still, even in my haze of giddiness, I knew that it would only be a matter time before his whore saw what had happened. I knew we had to leave!
I sat Mother on the bed and she sat upright but unmoving. I rummaged around for a suitcase or luggage, all the while wondering where we could possibly go this time of night.
“Mama! We have to leave now!” I cried in vain and still she sat motionless. I saw her bible and rosary on her nightstand and so I picked them up to place in her lap.
I looked down and realized that my hands bled; my right hand had a deep cut across the front, where I had tried to defend myself. I ran to the bathroom and tore off my now bloodied dress-shirt and grabbed the gauze from the cabinet. I looked back at Mother, who still sat there quietly, though if I stared hard enough, I could see her breathe. I continued to look around her room for luggage and found a small bag tucked carefully under her bed. I remembered that bag...
“Someday we will have to leave, Vega.” she said softly. “And if I am unable to get it, I want you to take this suitcase.” she said, gesturing to a small carpet bag. “It has everything already packed. We won't have to worry.” the small boy nodded obediently and wrapped his arms around her waist, she draped her arms on his back and caressed him lovingly...
I put a coat on Mother and sat her in her wheelchair. I was careful not to go passed the body that lay on the floor as I went to find the driver again. He gave me a puzzled look but nodded as he helped me load Mother into the car. I put my arm around her and held her close as we drove in the dark towards the border and she said not a word the whole night.
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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine