A/N - Okay, I said I wasn't going to do any more KFP stories because I got next to zero attention for them, but right now I don't care about that too much because it looks like my book might be getting published oh my god take THAT you lazy idiots who won't review! Plus, I'm not continuing the old trilogy (still no material to do so with) and I think a Shen origins story might get a bit more attention, even if it is cliched. At least it's not a Shen-survived-and-was-found-and-nursed-back-to-health-by-love-interest-OC fic.
This ties in with my story "If No One Will Listen" and I'm going to figure out a way to brush over the events of that story as briefly as possible here.
Part 1: The omen
The birth of one's first child is a life-changing event for any new parents. Once the expectancy is confirmed, fantasies of the unborn child soon overtake the mind, and expectations begin to grow. Oftentimes parents are certain that their baby will be healthy, be intelligent, and be able to achieve what is required of them. But things don't always go as planned.
Lord Jin and Lady Ah-lam, the Royal Peacocks, were no exceptions to this rule. When they conceived their first egg, celebrations were declared all over Gongmen City, and the young rulers could not have been more delighted. They were not yet ready to think about needing an heir, but they had been eager to become parents for quite some time, and now their wish seemed to be coming true. Soon there would be a new prince or princess to truly unite them as a family, and no sooner had the arrival of the egg been announced than they were dreaming longingly of what a prosperous ruler their little chick would grow up to be.
They gave the egg as much attention as they possible could. They set aside a small room in the Tower of the Sacred Flame and called it the "nursery," where the egg could be kept warm and safe until it hatched, and where the hatchling could be properly treated until it was ready to be taken back to its parents' quarters. They both found themselves distracted during their royal duties and went to visit the nursery frequently, particularly Ah-lam, who for the majority of the day could be found sitting next to the makeshift nest of pillows and blankets, pensively staring at her egg. The incubation of a peacock egg was about a month, which seemed like much too long for her. She could hardly wait until she had a newborn chick, with fuzzy feathers and tiny little talons, to hold in her arms and cradle.
Lord Jin was decidedly less distracted but no less excited than his wife, and her undying enthusiasm made him chuckle lovingly on more than one occasion. One day, after she had spent several minutes fretting to him about not knowing the gender of their baby, he told her that he could think of a treat for her. "We'll send for our court soothsayer," he declared, "and she can tell us whether the chick will be male or female."
Ah-lam was delighted by this idea, and so Jin sent for the soothsayer, a stout female goat who was wise beyond her years. She was almost universally ignored within the palace and always had a wry look on her face, especially so as she trotted into the throne room that day with her bowl clutched in her hooves. "Yes, my lord?" she inquired, bowing down before him.
"Soothsayer, my wife wishes to know if our child will be a boy or a girl," Jin told her. "We wish you to divine the answer to this."
"We shall see if the fates are willing to disclose such information," she answered, and confidently strode up the stairs to the throne. "I will need a feather from each of you."
Jin and Ah-lam looked at each other, slightly puzzled, but they both removed a small feather from their hands after a moment's hesitation.
"Now," said the soothsayer, placing the feathers carefully at the bottom of her bowl. She would have bitten off a chunk from the hem of their robes, which she often did to her other clients, but she was intelligent enough not to try this with her rulers and superiors. "Let us see what the babe's future will hold…"
She tossed a handful of sparkling powder over the feather samples, and thick, colorful smoke rose into the air.
The images in the smoke started off pleasantly enough. A large egg, colored a deep peacock blue, floated above them, surrounded by serene-looking green mist. The soothsayer pursed her lips, staring intently into the depths of the bowl. "I see…that the egg will hatch before its time…"
"What?" cried Ah-lam, just as the mist surrounding the smoky egg turned to a sickly shade of white. White flames leapt up around it, singing the green egg until it too was colorless. The egg's shell shattered into pieces that dissolved into more smoke, and this smoke condensed to form the shape of what was obviously a peacock…but it was still white.
"I see white," stated the soothsayer simply. "And fire. And darkness…"
"This is outrageous!" Jin waved his wings furiously at the images in the smoke, causing them to roil and evaporate. He glared at the soothsayer, his crest bristling. "We did not ask you to spread such falsehoods!"
"This is what the universe has chosen to reveal to us, my lord," she responded, undaunted. "We can make the best use of this foresight…"
"I absolutely refuse to believe it!" he shouted. "You are dismissed. And you're lucky that I don't have you cast out of here this instant!"
After that, Jin and Ah-lam made a point of telling everyone they spoke to about how ridiculous this prediction was. But a seed of doubt had been planted at the bottoms of their souls. Would their chick really hatch prematurely? And what had been meant by "white, and fire, and darkness?" White was the color of death…were the confusing pictures that had formed in the smoke foretelling a bad omen?
The one-month deadline was growing closer and closer, and preparations for the birth of the heir continued. Ah-lam spent more and more time in the nursery now, and she would never admit that she was worried about the possibility of prematurity. She was always fussing about the egg, and the palace physicians constantly tending to it were much too nervous to tell her that she was being a bit overbearing.
There were ten days left, then nine, then eight, then seven. And then, on the sixth day before the birth was expected to occur, the physicians and attendants in their usual posts in the nursery were startled to hear a sudden onset of quiet pecking.
The egg was hatching.
Alarm erupted almost immediately, and soon enough, Jin and Ah-lam came running. They stood over their unborn child, gripping each other fearfully, as what seemed like every physician in the city watched the egg with their breaths held hostage in their chests. The lord and lady both felt weak and faint; they now regretted their immediate dismissal of the soothsayer's prediction, and they watched tiny rifts and cracks gradually appear in the surface of the egg with an uneasy combination of excitement and terror.
All in all, it took several hours for the egg to break completely; clearly the chick inside of it was having quite a bit of trouble. Not one of the people gathered in the nursery dared to leave. At long last, there was a loud snapping sound, and the front of the eggshell fragmented and disintegrated. Egg fluid gushed from the rough-edged hole, and a tiny, limp form collapsed onto the mound of blankets with a soft thump.
Two physicians rushed forward with the intent of cleaning off and bundling up the newborn chick, as did Jin and Ah-lam, desperate for a first glimpse of their child. But everyone – all of the doctors, and most especially the royal peacocks – froze in place when they got their first good look at the baby.
Every one of its feathers was a pale, sickly white.
A/N #2 - If you want this story to survive, you better review this time!