[ He changes to voice. He isn't as fluent with writing as he wants to be. ]

My father was a Misting. An Allomancer, with a single power. He took as many mistresses as he could in order to have children with power. In my world, you can either have one power or you can have all of them - either a Misting or a Mistborn. I was the only Mistborn.

My mother was a noblewoman, only fourteen years older than me. He seduced her with the promise of power. She was shamed by the pregnancy, and her family covered it up. My father was only too happy to take the child off of their hands.

I met her once, but she didn't know me.

[ She seemed pathetic, he wants to add, but doesn't. ]

He kept me secret from everyone, along with the other bastards he'd fathered, until he made a move to become king. Then I was important. It felt good, and I made sure I wasn't a secret any longer. I made his army fear me. But I never stopped wanting more than that. I wanted freedom. But when I tried to get it, that was when I was killed.

It's not freedom, here, but at least I'm not the tool of a powerful man anymore. I'm not a knife. It's better.

You don't have to tell me anything back. I didn't say this because I wanted anything from you. I just think you'll understand.