Destiny
The prologue
By Neil of The Three Musketeers
A/N: Ok, so this is
a story of mine that came to me with a spark of genius, if I do say so myself,
and I do. Neil laughs at her corny joke Anyway, I already love this
story, and I have a lot of stuff planned for it—if you request it. So read and review, folks!
Disclaimer: Tortall belongs to Tamora Pierce, obviously. The rest belongs to me, k?
When Emma
of White Sands was born, her parents, Jeremiah and Josephine, requested the
reading of a Seer. The woman Seer came
to their lands, hobbling over a low stick.
Her skin drooped with age; her back was hunched over, as if she bore the
weight of the world on her shoulders; her long, straight gray hair shone
silver; her dark eyes glowed with warmth and pain, an immeasurable amount of
pain; and she glowed with power.
Jeremiah and Josephine were awed with the power she radiated.
Jeremiah,
made timid by the exuberance of this power, meekly asked the seer to read what
would become of their daughter. The
woman leaned over the cradle and looked at the young face below her old and
haggard face. In contrast with the old
seer, the baby had blond, curly hair, that formed ringlets around her face, and
she had eyes the color of pure emeralds, the most precious kind. The child had a sweet disposition and was
always smiling. The old woman reached
out her shaking, wrinkled hand and touched the child upon her alabaster
brow. Her eyes closed in concentration
at the same time the child's eyes closed.
The Seer kept her hand there for a long minute. When she removed her hand, she turned slowly
around to face the child's parents. Her
eyes, once as dark as night, had turned white, white as snow.
When she
was completely facing Jeremiah and Josephine, she spoke in a voice not her
own. The voice was not her own: where
it had once been high pitched, shaky, that of a grandmother's, now it was young
and strong, soft and husky, like the sound of the wind blowing through the
treetops, and also sounded of a pack of hounds baying in the hunt.
"Your
daughter is not meant to become as you wish her to be. For all that she will be beautiful and shall
have lovely manners, she will arise to more.
She is one of the Goddess's chosen.
There is no way she will not raise above all. She will dominate her country, Tortall. All will know her name.
She will go where she must and perform as she must. A word of caution to this tale, she will go
where she is needed- you cant prevent her.
She will do best with your support, but she will survive without
it. It is her destiny, and nothing can
stop destiny."
The old
woman's eyes slowly changed back to their original state. She looked exhausted from the strain of
Seeing. She hunched over even further,
perhaps because she was tired, but more likely because she had just had more
weight from the world placed on her old shoulders.
During the
Seer's speech, Jeremiah had steadily turned red. From the paleness from seeing the woman Seeing, to the red of
anger.
"MY
DAUGHTER WILL BE A LADY!! SHE WILL NOT TRAIPSE ABOUT PRETENDING TO BE A MAN!!
NO DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE A NIGHT, OLD WOMAN!! AND IF YOU THINK SHE WILL, YOU
ARE SADLY MISTAKEN!!!"
The old
woman was unfazed by Jeremiah's heated protest. She sat in the chair that Josephine had brought for her, a big
red cushioned chair. The Seer leaned
back in her chair, and closed her eyes.
"You are
wrong, my son. You cannot change
destiny, and it is your daughter's destiny to be a great service to her
country. She will go, and you cannot
stop her, hard as you might try. I know this is very difficult for you to bear,
my son, but you will have ten years to the day to get used to the idea. She will leave then. I shall take her myself."
"You are
wrong, old woman. She will not go."
The woman
snapped her eyes open. In place of the
warmth that had been there only a minute before, they held fury, an amazing
amount of fury for one so old.
"You will
see, my child. I shall be back in 10
years."
The Seer
stood up, and walked out of the castle with a briskness that showed the age of
her spirit: young. She moved swiftly
off the lands, with Jeremiah staring angrily out the window after her,
regretting the day that he had ever called upon a Seer.
Josephine
put her hand on her husband's shoulder, trying to ease his anger. He turned to her kind face. His anger faded from his face, changing into
pain. He fell into her arms and started
weeping.
"Ten years,
Josephine, ten years, ten…."
