Warning: Violence is in this fic...and a uber healthy dose of tradgedy.
Disclaimer: Twilight isn't mine, only the plot line.
A/N: Haha! Another one (no it's not Genesis...obviously, nor the first chapters of Edward's POV in Primrose) but something completely different! Unlike my others, this will be a short one, with a maximum of six chapters. Credits to inspiration go to the Brothers Grimm, Wagner, Dante, Homer, Killswitch Engage, Shakespeare, The Book Of Spirits (off the top of my head, I cannot recall the author) and a Hawaiian legend. Wait until we get around to the pairing (or you can cheat and have a look at it on my profile page...)
Memoirs of the Bitter Sweet
By Clarissa Frey
Prequel
My time of being reborn again is coming to a close. It is indefinable and inevitable and to think, to hope so otherwise is trivial.
There is not much to write, however, there is much to say and tell. And it is here that I sit in the study of the tower that I am locked away in, very much a like to Rapunzel, there is however (and of that I am sure) a difference between Rapunzel's plight and my own. She was imprisoned for her beauty or something like that (I never had the patience for fairy tales) whilst I, on the other hand am imprisoned for my role in a pointless war, amongst other reasons and in my uncles' study nonetheless!
For this reason alone- that my own uncles imprisoned me for selfish reasons- that I rip the bloody, written accounts of pointless battles from yet another of my uncles many tomes, to write my own account- my story, for there have been a many amount of events, so terrible and unbearable to speak of, so much so that my heart grows heavier than before just to dwell upon them. Then there are the events that need to be spoken of, for they are great.
You, whoever you are do not understand the tries and customs of our world, nor the price that some, if not all of our kind pay for them. My heart is heavy with a decision that should no, nay, will not be made and a many tears would have been spent of such a choice, if such a feat were possible. Even now, whoever you are, I know that you are confused- what type of person cannot cry? – But to be confused is natural and I, the storyteller will endeavour to explain to the fullest.
Here, I will sign my name and say no more, for a more appropriate time in my writings will come to explain all that has happened- that moments of utter happiness and bliss and the moments so horrible, the betrayals. But, there is much hope, that in reading this, that my life, my second life, will be the last to be taken in this bloody war.
Always, always do I send my love,
--Heidi Volturri
