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Lets get right to the story shall we?:

Okay, so. When I was born, I was born second by 5 or so minutes. To my sister, Krishna, and Indian name.
You see my father was owner of an island of the coast of the roman empire, in the mediteranian. He was a young man, 23 years old when he fathered me and my sister, his only children.
My father was a very humble, down to earth man who took care of his people with loving-kindness.
But, sadly his wife was barren. He loved no other like her and refused adamantly to wed a second wife. But he did, as all roman lords did, during saturnalia (later named christmas,) got drunk and bed thier slaves, which my father had many of.
Now, you have to understand the meaning of slave in those times. If not for my father having got these women and taken them in from India (he had a soft spot for the Indian peoples and believed they made the best housekeepers, which is all these hundreds of women were. and in exchange they would be given much more than would have been given to them in their homeland.)
Now my father on the night of saturnalia bed my mother, an Indian slave. I hadnt known that truth until later on in my life.
My fathers wife at the time wanted nothing to do with me and my sister, but my father knowing this was his only chance for an heir on his throne spared us and loved us both.
My father was away on trips most of the time and when he wasnt he was too busy looking after his island-city, and my fathers wife was ill all the time i knew her, untill she died when I was eight. So me and my sister were left to our own devices. We would spend our time in the greenhouse, tending to the plants with the slaves who adored and loved us much, for they all knew we were the children of one of their own, though we hadnt.
One day we overheard the voice of a slave speaking to another, who kept silent. "Arent you ever going to even speak to those children, have you ever said two words to them, you do your duties near them every chance you get. Just talk to them,"
The other said not a word. Days later when my father returned from another of his trips we had planned on asking him about it after not being able to get information from any of his underlings.
But this time when he came home, he was crazed, wide-eyed. And didnt leave his study for anything and none dared to disturb him. For about a year this went on, and my sister and I took care of the island. I was the spokesman, whilst she was the brains. I never could handle that kind of stuff and closer and closer I got to my sister for how much I admired her, Her strength and precision and beauty.
When she was in public she seemed cold, and calculating. Unbreakable and Impenetrable. But I knew her. In private she was full-loaded with emotions and free-spirited thoughts that blew my mind and gave me more love to her.
After that year I couldnt take my fathers madness anymore and I, alone went into my fathers study, after my sister fell asleep. One of the few times I had been seen without her. He was on a desk cluttered with old text and new text, scribbles on tossed parchment nearly illegible, drawings of strange symbols surrounded the walls and floor, and even roof. there were empty plates from months before scattered around. At least I knew he was eating. Which was the only sign that he did because he had dramatically lost weight. Even when his beloved wife died he paid little attention. What, I wondered, could drive a man into a place where my father was. He paid no attention to my entry or the soft words I spoke in his ear, begging him to come out and take care of his people.
I told him what me and my sister had been doing that past year for his people he paid scant attention, still having not spoken.
All the while he was asking me questions that made little sense; What does this look like to you?, showing me a scrap of paper with strange markings on it, he moved around, rustling through his many notes, as I talked to him, and finally he broke of, apparently finding the paper he had been looking for and started cross-referencing it with the thing he had been looking at.
He looked up suddenly from his books as i was speaking of the new way we began organizing the farming records, and with tear-strewn eyes he mumbled something to me,
" And so a tormented soul shines through,"
I dont remember anything in that night, but I know he held me close and showed me love I never knew he had, and he cried.
Somewhere in those hours I asked about mine and my sisters mother, and he didnt answer, refused to tell me.
But he ordered the greenhouse to be remodeled into a home for me and my sister and ordered a single slave to be ours.
Me and my sister quickly realized this woman was our birth mother and we loved her very much until she had gotten sick and died. During this time me and Krishna became so close we were finishing eachothers sentences and had an unbreakable bond, I was about fourteen at the time, considered a man. When my father didnt return from one of his trips years later I was called upon to take his place, my sister was going to help me.
My mother was a quiet simple woman with A big heart, and a gift for the magical practices which were later to be called gypsy magick, or voodoo. She taught my sister these things, being her heir, she surpassed our mother in skill quickly, but my mother still knew much more than her, and taught her every day, so I was left alone to take care of the Island, and I did okay, but not as good as I wouldve done had Krishna been by my side.
I suddenly realized I was In love with her.
A man came to me claiming that his neighbor stole his cattle, the other man was braught before me and I resolved the situation by forcing them to combine every animal they own and work a single farm together, I felt the significance of their joining greatly and took into account my emptiness, In that moment I realized.
My mother was on her bed the night I went over to the greenhouse where they both still lived, me having moved into the palace, She looked at me with sweet loving eyes as I came in through the doorway, until the shadow covering my face disappeared. She turned her head, that sparkle left her eyes when she realized it was her son. She never felt for me the way she did Krishna, I assume It had to do with the culture of her homeland and never questioned her for it.
She smiled and said hi, she told me she knew why I was here, and that Krishna was out in the garden gathering herbs. She told me she understood my love for her, more than I did. And apparently Krishna had felt the same for me, but all her life.
I had been too much of a fool to have not realized what I felt for her until then, but she did. And my mother took me by the hands and spoke softly, saying
" When your sister comes you must leave, take flight. Get on a ship and go to the mainland, let noone know where you are going and let noone know who you are, you must. The people found out the practices of me and Krishna, and they are going to kill us both, dont worry, they wont be here for another hour, or so. Take what you need and take noone else with you, and nothing to give a hint at who you are, go now!" And I did, I ran I packed stuff up and me and my sister fled. Both deeply and finally openly in love with eachother, we went to Alexandria, in Egypt. We lived there peacefully for less than a year, I studied much in the great library of Alexandria, and found myself either sprawled over scrolls and texts or with my sister living in a small house with another family. It was in these days that I had the happiest time of my life, and the most horrible...