I've been working on some of my other projects, so it's been a few months since I wrote any fanfiction. Still, I have plenty more ideas for HameFura fics.
For instance, the initial inspiration for this fic was mariagonerlj's tendency to draw comparisons between HameFura and Game of Thrones. It amused me to imagine how events leading up to the War of Five Kings would have gone differently if Cersei Lannister were to be replaced with the bratty version of Katarina Claes from the Fortune Lover otome game. There are a number of similarities between Cersei and OG!Katarina, both of whom are arrogant and spoilt young women used to getting their own way, but there are a few key differences (and that's what this story is all about).
One of the defining incidents of Cersei Lannister's life was that, when she was a young girl, she visited an old wise woman who gave her a prophecy that blighted her life from then on: she was told that she would "marry the king", who would have twenty children while she would have only three, that her three children would have golden crowns and golden shrouds (implying that her children would predecease her); and that, when her tears had drowned her, "the valonqar" would strangle her to death. This became a self-fulfilling prophecy: all of Cersei's attempts to wriggle away from her destiny only ended up making it more likely to happen. (And then, in the final season of Game of Thrones, Weiss and Benioff disregarded all of the foreshadowing that had come before, making it pointless. I can only hope that George R. R. Martin will make better use of it when he eventually finishes writing the last couple of books.)
In this fic, you'll see what would have happened if OG!Katarina Claes had gone to visit that old wise woman instead of Cersei Lannister...
The Misfortune Teller
In a gloomy side-street, far from the fashionable boutiques, shops, and cafés that were commonly frequented by their parents and other aristocrats, two little girls advanced steadily through the mud and puddled rainwater, dragging a young maidservant along with them.
The leader of their little group was Katarina Claes, a nine-year-old girl with chestnut brown hair, a faint cross-shaped scar on her forehead, and a confident smirk on her lips. From the beginning, this excursion had been her idea: she had made plans for the day, invited one of her usual playmates to go with her, and lied to her parents about where they were going. Because they were embroiled in a bitter altercation with each other, the Duke and Duchess Claes had barely paid attention to her carefully-prepared falsehoods, except to say that she should take her personal maid with her to act as a chaperone.
"We shouldn't be here," said Sienna Nelson, whom Katarina had decided was her best friend: at least for the time being until a better prospect came along. A quiet, thoughtful child with dirty-blonde hair, whose father was a mere baron, she was neither high-ranking nor magically powerful enough for the Duke's daughter to see her as a threat. Under normal circumstances, she didn't have much to say – which was one of the things that Katarina liked about her – but now fear seemed to have overcome her habitual timidity. Her eyes darted this way and that, looking for hidden dangers in every shadow; she was poised and ready to flee.
"I'm inclined to agree," said Anne Sherry, Katarina's personal maid, a tall young woman with dark hair and a long-suffering air about her. "If your father finds out about this…"
"He won't find out," said Katarina, as if what she said was irrefutable. "You aren't going to tell him, are you?"
"Against my better judgement, no," said Anne, after a moment's hesitation.
"You don't need to be afraid of my father," said Katarina. "When has he ever cared about anything other than arguing with my mother?"
Anne sighed but didn't argue the point.
Despite its unprepossessing appearance, this was not the roughest part of town; nevertheless, before coming here, Katarina had thought it prudent to put on her least favourite dress and a rough homespun coat she had borrowed from one of the junior gardeners, which was much too long for her and trailed behind her like the train of a wedding gown. Sienna was similarly dressed in old and tatty clothes. Anne wore her own much-mended coat and maid's uniform. None of them looked like they had anything worth stealing: at least, Katarina hoped not.
They reached their destination after several minutes' walk: it was the home of an old wise woman called Maggy the Frog. According to rumour, her husband had been a young nobleman who had traveled to distant lands seeking to make his fortune, and had come back to Sorcier with a shipload of spices and an exotically beautiful wife. Apparently, she had brought strange magic with her from her faraway homeland – ever since her husband had squandered his wealth and died of a wasting illness, it had been her sole means of support – and was rumoured to be able to brew love potions, summon demons, and see into the future.
Some of this Katarina had overheard by listening to serving girls' gossip: the rest she had persuaded Anne to find out for her. She was excited by the story she had gradually pieced together – it was like a fairy tale and yet unlike any fairy tale she had ever been told – and, before long, the prospect of going to see Maggy the Frog for herself had become an irresistible temptation.
The witch's house might once have been well-built, but now it was smeared with grime, blackened with soot, and its thatched roof was in poor repair. Pushing open the front door, which was unlocked, Katarina stepped inside. Anne and Sienna followed, cautiously and with trepidation.
They entered a dimly lit room where the air was thick with perfumed smoke. Taking shallow breaths, Katarina tasted various scents: some spicy, some cloyingly sweet, and some that were bitterly herbal; but all of them put together were unable to fully conceal a putrid stench of decay that hung over everything like a filthy smog. Bundles of herbs were dangling from the ceiling, a mouldy-looking carpet was strewn across the floor, and a faintly waning fire was burning in the hearth.
In the corner, an old crone was snoozing in a moth-eaten armchair. She was a fat, warty creature with drooping jowls and a wide, toothless mouth. Ropes of slobber dangled from her chin. Only a few wisps of white hair still clung to her otherwise bald head. Her long, loose robe was a dingy grey colour and had been haphazardly patched. Katarina couldn't help but stare at her, awed and aghast at how ugly she was.
"She appears to be asleep," said Anne, quite unnecessarily. "Well then, we'd better not disturb her–"
"Wake up!" yelled Katarina, running over to the sleeping woman and shaking her vigorously. "We want our fortunes told!"
At the time, this made perfect sense to her: if Maggy the Frog made her living by selling charms, potions and prophecies, wouldn't she want to be disturbed so that she could earn some extra money?
The crone suddenly sat upright. Her yellow eyes, crusted with foulness, snapped open. She glared balefully at the intruders. "Get out," she croaked.
"Please," said Sienna, wringing her hands together. "We heard that you can see into the future. We just want to know…" She quivered and seemed unable to go on: her voice faded to a whisper and then nothing.
"Get out," said Maggy the Frog, a second time.
"I want to know about the man I am going to marry," said Katarina. "I want you to tell me that we will be happy together, grow old together, and have many beautiful children. That's what fortune tellers normally do, isn't it?"
"I'm not a 'normal' fortune teller," said Maggy the Frog. She scraped a crabbed hand across her chin, thereby wiping up the drool that had spilled out of her mouth while she slept. "Always do I tell the truth, though hardly anyone wants to hear it. Little fools. You'd be much happier if you went home and forgot you'd ever heard my name. So, I'll give you one last chance: get out."
Until that moment, Katarina had been reaching for the drawstring bag that contained the allowance her father had given her when she'd begged to be allowed to go shopping to buy a new dress: she expected to have to pay to have her fortune told. But when she heard the threatening tone in the old woman's voice, her temper flared. She fired back with threats of her own: "If you don't tell us our fortunes, I will go to my father and have you horsewhipped for your insolence!"
"Lady Katarina!" cried Anne, utterly appalled by what she had just heard.
The crone gave a rasping chuckle. "Such a kind offer. How could I refuse?" she murmured. "Very well, then. Come to me, if you won't go." She plucked a knife from seemingly nowhere and offered it to Katarina. "I must taste blood from each of you."
She was hiding it up her sleeve the whole time, Katarina told herself, taking the knife. It was just a trick. Doing her best to seem calm and unconcerned, she used it to prick the ball of her thumb, making it bleed. Then, she did the same for Sienna, who was trembling like a frightened rabbit.
Anne refused, at first. "I don't want to know my future," she said. "Neither should you if you have any sense."
"But she needs blood from all three of us!" Katarina implored her.
"I have heard that foreign witches can do terrible things to you if they get a sample of your blood," Anne warned her. "And you want to give it to her! Do you really think that's wise?"
But Katarina would not be dissuaded: she was convinced that she needed Maggy the Frog to tell her what the future had in store for her. Therefore, as part of a concerted attempt to weaken her maidservant's resolve, she used every tool in her persuasive repertoire: she put on her most charming and innocent smile, allowed tears to gush from her red-rimmed eyes, and spoke in cajoling, flattering, pleading tones about how much she valued Anne's service and would hate to think that she was in any way disloyal.
Finally, having been pushed beyond all endurance, Anne stopped resisting. She took the knife from Katarina and used it to draw a line in blood across her own thumb.
"Now, I must have a taste," said Maggy the Frog, a note of grotesque eagerness in her voice. "Give it here."
Katarina was closest: she offered her hand and held it still while the old woman took it in her mouth and sucked away the blood. The inside of that toothless mouth was unpleasantly cold and clammy – she was reminded of when she had been much younger, digging for worms in a patch of squelching wet soil, until her mother had caught her and forced her to go inside and get washed – somehow, Maggy the Frog's mouth felt very much like a patch of cold, worm-infested mud.
After a moment, the crone let go of Katarina and beckoned for Sienna and Anne to come forward. "Your blood," she reminded them. "I need it."
They acquiesced, though their misgivings were obvious.
Having tasted blood from each of them, Maggy the Frog gave a satisfied sigh. "Three questions you may ask."
"Each?" Katarina wanted to know.
"One each," the witch replied. A smug grin spread over her wrinkled face. "No doubt you want them all to yourself, you greedy brat."
Katarina flushed an angry red. "No! We'll share them!" she insisted. "We'll take one each!"
"You can have my question, Lady Katarina," said Anne. "I don't want it."
"No, it belongs to you. If you don't want it, no one else can have it," said Katarina, shaking her head. She was determined to prove that she could be a generous and selfless mistress, not just the 'greedy brat' that Maggy the Frog had accused her of being.
For a moment, Anne looked like she was about to argue, but she must have thought better of it. "As you say, Milady," she said, bowing her head.
"Ask your questions," said Maggy the Frog. "You will not like my answers. Ask or begone with you."
"I am betrothed to Prince Jeord," Katarina said proudly. "When will we marry?"
"Never," the crone replied. "His heart will be stolen by another. She will be pure and sweet and beautiful as a flower in springtime – and she will take from you everything you hold dear."
"If she does, I will kill her!" Katarina declared. Even as she spoke, her bravado seemed embarrassingly false, her words empty and meaningless: she knew that she would never get away with murdering another noblewoman, if she dared to try. She could be unstoppably bold and boastful when she was talking about what she wanted to do, but she didn't know if she would have the heart to put her ruthless plans into action. After all, words were cheap, but actions much less so.
"You will try. And he will kill you for it," Maggy the Frog said pitilessly. "He will draw his sword and cut your pretty little head off."
While Katarina was still gasping in horror and trying to think of a suitable rebuttal, the crone turned to Sienna. "Ask," she croaked.
There was a slight hesitation. After several moments, Sienna glanced anxiously at Katarina, moistened her lips, and said in a strangled tone of voice, "Will I…? Um, will I get married to someone nice?"
"No. You won't," said Maggy the Frog. "Worms will have your maidenhead. Death is coming for you tonight. She is here with us, in this very room. Can't you hear her dulcet tones?"
"Stop saying such horrible things and learn some manners!" Katarina yelled at her.
"Yes. Just like that," said the crone, with a toothless smirk.
It took some time for Sienna to fully comprehend what she had just heard. She found it difficult to believe that her death was imminent. It's not true, she told herself. It has to be a lie, or a joke, or else she must be mistaken. But when she gazed into Maggy the Frog's yellow eyes, looking for answers, she saw only vicious amusement. The old woman seemed to be enjoying her distress.
When Sienna burst into tears, heaving great terrified sobs, Katarina did her best to comfort her, hugging her and telling her not to worry. But her best friend was not so easily consoled: she barely even seemed to be listening.
At the same time, Maggy turned her attention to Anne. "Now you. The last question is yours."
"I don't have any questions," said the young maidservant. "I don't want to know my future. Judging by what you've said to my two young charges, I think I'd be better off not knowing."
"Wise of you. But wisdom will benefit you not at all," Maggy sneered at her. "You are a useful young woman, aren't you? Usage defines your existence. You will always be used by someone or other."
Saying nothing, Anne merely nodded.
"Though you did not ask for it, I will tell you what you need to know," said Maggy. "Before long, your father will come back for you. Perhaps you may still be of use to him, despite past disappointments. And so, he will see you married off to an evil man who will use you cruelly."
At that, Anne gave an involuntary shudder. Thoroughly discomposed, she regarded the crone with worried eyes, wondering how she could possibly know so much.
"I don't believe any of it!" Katarina proclaimed. "You're nothing but a fraud! You may have fooled the common folk with your dire portents and dramatic speeches, but you can't fool me!" Doing her best to imitate the air of majestic hauteur that her mother had perfected, she sniffed and examined her nails. "Really, all of this is very disappointing."
Maggy the Frog threw back her head and gave a rattle of contemptuous laughter, but otherwise did not reply. Settling down in her armchair, she looked ready to doze off again.
On a side table, there was a jar of some thick herbal concoction. Katarina picked it up without meaning to: her hands seemed to move of their own accord. In that moment, she desperately wanted to hurl the jar at the old crone, to hurt her – to wipe that smug look off her face – but at the same time, she felt a twinge of sudden fear: she felt that she was not entirely in control of her own actions and that she was being manipulated like a puppet.
"Go on," said Maggy, staring at her unblinkingly. "Do it."
Katarina's muscles tensed. Before she even had time to think about it, she was ready to obey the old woman's instructions by attacking her. However, she realised that it probably wasn't a good idea to allow herself to be baited into doing exactly what her tormentor wanted her to do. With an effort of will, she managed to refrain from doing so. Instead, she returned the jar to where she had found it, putting it down gingerly. Her heart was pounding, her mouth was dry, and she was panting as if she had just run for miles.
"I won't!" she cried. "You can't make me!"
"Well, aren't you interesting? Maybe there's more to you than meets the eye." The crone's yellow gaze glimmered with malice. "Not that it'll help you, in the end."
"Let's go home, Sienna," said Katarina, taking her best friend's hand. "We don't have to listen to this: we can forget all of this nonsense!"
Maggy muttered a few unintelligible foreign words, but Katarina ignored her. Turning on her heel, she marched away with her head held high, through the front door and out into the street. A moment later, her companions trailed after her. Anne and Sienna both looked bewildered and drained of emotion.
"We can't tell anyone what she said," Sienna babbled. "If we never talk about it, we'll soon forget – and then it'll be like a bad dream we once had. No one need ever know. And then it won't come true." As if trying to reassure herself, she added, "How could it possibly come true if no one knows about it?"
Lost in her own brooding introspection, Katarina did not reply.
They began to head back to the main thoroughfare where they had left the Claes family carriage and horses. Along the way, they passed by an old boarded-up well. Stumbling, Sienna leaned up against it, trying to steady herself. But the wood was so rotten and worm-eaten that it crumbled at the merest touch. A panicked shriek issued from her open mouth as she fell forward into the gaping hole–
Reacting instinctively, Katarina grabbed hold of her and pulled her to safety.
"You saved me," said Sienna, weeping with sudden fright and relief. "Thank you. Oh, thank you!" She buried her face in her best friend's shoulder, hugging her tightly.
For a few moments afterwards, Katarina was surprised by what she had done. It had happened so quickly that she had barely considered what she was doing. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she wondered if it wouldn't have been wiser to let Sienna fall to her death. It would have been a tragic accident, but no one could possibly have blamed her for it. And then her secret would have been a little safer. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, she remembered that someone had once told her. But that half-forgotten scrap of wisdom might as well have come to her in a dream: in any case, she couldn't remember where she had got it from.
Sienna couldn't possibly tell anyone about Maggy's prophecies if she died here, she reasoned. Her hands pressed against her friend's back. What if I spun her around and…?
Then, as if she'd been dunked in ice-cold water, she came to a shocking realisation: if Sienna died, one of Maggy's prophecies would have come true. On the other hand, if she could keep her alive – at least until the end of tonight – that would mean that the prophecy was wrong. If one prophecy could be wrong, why couldn't the others?
A victorious smile spread over Katarina's lips: she had come up with a plan to save herself!
Therefore, instead of pushing the other girl to her death as she had been tempted to do a few moments before, she wrapped her arms around her, embraced her, and said, "I'm going to keep you safe. I won't let anyone hurt you. Trust me!"
"I do," said Sienna, gazing at her with the light of hero-worship in her eyes.
"You too, Anne," said Katarina, turning to her. "I'm going to look after you. I won't let anyone force you to do anything you don't want to do!"
Her maid regarded her uneasily. "You'll protect me from my father and the man he wants me to marry?"
"Of course," Katarina promised. "What kind of mistress would I be if I didn't take care of you?"
"Well… thank you," said Anne. "I hope it will be that simple."
"We have to try. Even if we fail, the consequences can't possibly be any worse than if we had never tried at all," said Katarina, putting on her most determined expression. "So… well, what have we got to lose?"
Sienna seemed impressed by this rhetoric. "Yes, we have to try," she agreed, with a nod. "Otherwise, we might as well lie down and die!"
"Thank you, Sienna, that's very encouraging," said Anne, sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
A riderless horse appeared in the gap between buildings. Its coat was lathered with sweat, its muzzle was dripping with foam, and its eyes were wide and terrified. Running at full tilt, it charged at Sienna and would have smashed her from her feet if both Katarina and Anne hadn't grabbed her and pulled her out of the way as soon as they noticed the danger. It continued to run, dashing past them so quickly that they were nearly bowled over by the wind of its passage, galloped off into the distance and then vanished from sight.
"You… you saved me again," Sienna whispered, looking as though she was about to faint.
"We'll keep on saving you," Katarina told her. "As often as we need to."
Anne hesitated. A complicated expression turned her face into an enigma.
"Please," Katarina begged her. "I can't do this without you, Anne. I'm going to need your help."
"Yes, all right," said Anne, in a half-hearted tone.
"Is there anything I can do to convince you?" asked Katarina. "What about a pay rise? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Her maid gave a small nod. "That would be nice," she agreed.
"Well, then… What's the problem? Why do you seem so doubtful?"
Anne took a deep, sorrowing breath. "There isn't a problem," she said firmly, after a moment. "I'll do whatever I can to save you. Both of you."
"I'm not sure how much help I can be to you, but I'll try," Sienna said shyly.
"We'll get through this together," said Anne, as if she were making a solemn vow.
"Together!" shouted Katarina, hugging them both.
As they passed through the main marketplace, they came close to being crushed beneath a collapsing mound of carelessly piled-up cabbages. It happened like this: as they walked by the stall upon which a tall and unstable edifice had been built out of cabbages, someone was arguing with the proprietor. "Absolutely riddled with root fly maggots," he said with a disgusted sneer. "You might as well bin the whole lot!" He made the mistake of hammering on the stall in an attempt to emphasize his point. This dislodged several of the aforementioned root fly maggots from where they were hiding amongst the cabbages but also caused the entire structure to wobble dangerously.
Seeing that an avalanche of cabbages was about to fall on top of her – and, more importantly, on top of Sienna – Katarina did the only thing she could think of: she used her earth magic to create a small bump underneath the table leg closest to her, raising it a couple of inches above the ground, thereby tilting the surface of the table away from where she and her companions were standing. Therefore, when the cabbages fell, they fell behind the stall, harming no one.
The stall owner and his irate customer began to argue about whose fault this was and which of them deserved to be financially compensated by the other. Neither of them seemed to notice how close Katarina and her friends had come to death or serious injury.
"You are so skillful!" said Sienna in a stage whisper. Her mouth formed a little 'o' of wonderment.
"Yeah, I did quite well, didn't I?" Katarina's voice was dripping with false modesty. "My magic isn't very powerful, but… I've heard it said that 'Size doesn't matter: it's what you do with it that counts.'"
"Do you even know what that means?!" asked Anne, sounding scandalized.
The two girls looked at her, mystified.
"Isn't it obvious?" asked Katarina, cocking her head to one side.
"It seems obvious to me," Sienna agreed with her. "It's about magic, obviously. I was born with weak magic, but – with enough training and practice – I hope that someday I will be able to use it as well as Lady Katarina does."
Katarina narrowed her eyes. "Why, what did you think we were talking about?"
"Oh, silly me!" Peals of shrill, false laughter issued from Anne's open mouth. "Forget I said anything, please!"
"All right," said Katarina with a nod. "It's not as if we don't have plenty of other things to worry about already."
Continuing through the marketplace, they were tense and nervous, ready to leap into action if it seemed that something dangerous was about to happen. However, after several minutes, they made it back to where they had left their carriage without further incident.
"It's exhausting, being alert all the time," moaned Katarina, rubbing her eyes and sagging as if she had been carrying a load that was too heavy for her.
"Still, I appreciate the effort," said Sienna, smiling at her.
"Um… let me open the door for you," said Katarina, offering her an arm and helping her climb up into the carriage. "Where would you like to sit? Where do you think would be comfiest?"
"Perhaps she should sit in the middle, between the two of us," Anne suggested. "That way, we can… uh, protect her, if anything happens."
"Good idea," said Katarina.
Sienna nodded her head enthusiastically. "Thank you."
If the Claes family's coachman had ever paid much attention to Katarina's demeanour, he would have noticed that a startling change had come over her in only a few hours since he had last seen her. Before she had gone into town to see Maggy the Frog, she had been brattish and arrogantly self-centred, but now she treated her friend with exquisite care and attention and seemed determined to see to her needs even if it meant neglecting her own. It was as if Katarina had become the dutiful servant while Sienna had shifted into the role of the spoilt duchess's daughter and Anne had become their weary motherly figure: as if the three of them were actresses who'd been asked to put on different costumes and play unfamiliar roles in a new and exciting performance. If anyone had noticed, they might have heaped praise on them for how well they played their parts. However, their only possible audience was the coachman, who was merely glad that they weren't making much noise or kicking up a fuss, so their acting skills went unremarked.
Pulling the carriage behind them, the horses ambled along the road at a slow and soporific speed, which required barely any effort and they could keep up all day. Even so, because the Claes family estate was only a few miles away, the entire journey should have taken less than two hours.
After only a few minutes, Katarina felt herself drifting off to sleep. She tried to shake herself awake. "Mustn't sleep," she mumbled. "Too dangerous."
"We could play a game," Sienna suggested.
"Mmm. What game?"
"I spy with my little eye…"
Sometime later, as Katarina was racking her brains trying to think of 'something beginning with F', she heard a sickening crunch. The entire carriage seemed to lurch sideways. Wrapping her arms around Sienna, she tried to angle her body to shield her best friend from whatever was happening. This seemed to be a successful effort: she was painfully slammed into the back seat and had the breath knocked out of her, but Sienna was unscathed.
Anne helped them climb out of the wrecked carriage. Surveying the devastation, they discovered that – by some unbelievable misfortune – the front axle had snapped, one of the wheels had fallen off, and the horses had snapped their traces and run away. The coachman had fallen out of his seat and was lying unconscious in the dust nearby.
"Well… at least we're still alive," said Katarina, trying to stay cheerful.
She saw shadowy figures moving through the trees on either side of the road. As they came into view, she realised that they were bandits! Rough-looking men, scarred and shabbily-dressed, armed with swords, crossbows, and a few pistols, quickly surrounded the stricken carriage and its former occupants.
"What have we here?" said their apparent leader, a small fellow clad in ragged trousers and a frayed green jacket that had been mended with brown leather patches. He had a long nose, stringy shoulder-length brown hair, and a youthful face that gave no clue as to his actual age. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, this carriage belongs to Duke Claes. But you aren't dressed like nobility, any of you."
"One of them's got to be the Lady Katarina Claes, I reckon," said one of his colleagues, a one-eyed man wearing a rusty pot helmet, indicating the two little girls who were clinging to each other in their fright. "Maybe she likes playing dress-up."
"Should get a decent ransom for them," said a burly shaggy-bearded man with rotten teeth, dressed in a stained yellow coat. Unwisely, he waved a crossbow in their general direction.
One of his fingers must have jolted the trigger mechanism. There was a click. A metal bolt flew through the air. By chance, it was aimed at Sienna's forehead. Or it had been, a few moments before.
As soon as she saw the crossbow being pointed at them, Katarina threw herself on top of Sienna and bore her to the ground. She felt the bolt fly past the back of her neck: it came so close that she wouldn't have been surprised to find that it had cut a furrow through her hair. Letting out a shocked gasp, she lashed out with her earth magic, making the ground shift beneath the shaggy-bearded man's feet, causing him to stumble and drop his crossbow.
"Seven hells!" he cursed, getting to his feet. "Noble brats and their magic, damn them all!"
"Don't be a fool, Lem," the bandit leader chided him. "You almost killed her a minute ago. I'd say that she was entitled to strike back at you – especially since you took no lasting harm from it – wouldn't you?"
The shaggy-bearded man grumbled and cursed, but didn't move to pick his crossbow back up again.
Anne stepped in front of where Katarina and Sienna were still lying in the dirt, shielding them with her body. "Please don't harm the children," she said in a shaky voice. "I'll do whatever you want me to, just don't–"
"You're their governess, I suppose?" said the bandit leader. "I commend you for your loyalty. But what exactly are you offering us?"
"She could deliver a ransom demand to Duke Claes," the one-eyed man suggested. "Tell him that we'll release his daughter alive and unharmed in exchange for a thousand gold dragons."
"Please let them go," Anne begged. "You saw what happened with the crossbow bolt."
"That was an unfortunate accident–"
"Yes, just like when the carriage crashed, or when they were nearly run over by a horse, or when one of them came very close to falling down an old well," said Anne. "Unfortunate accidents keep happening to them, again and again. I think they've been cursed by a witch!"
The bandit leader gave a derisive laugh. 'Do you expect us to believe that?"
"It doesn't matter whether you believe it or not: it happens to be true!"
"Let me talk to them," said Katarina, getting up. She took a deep breath, marshaling her courage. Glancing around at the bandits, she thought that they looked like dangerous, hard-bitten men, but not deranged killers like the notorious Kingswood Brotherhood were supposed to be. She could negotiate with them, she hoped.
"Lady Katarina, I presume," said the bandit leader, giving her an ostentatious bow. "Are you going to make us an offer?"
"Yes. Honest work," said Katarina, taking out the drawstring bag containing the money her father had given her to buy a new dress. "I am in need of an escort to take me and my friends safely back home. I can pay you twenty silver stags here and now: my father will pay you much more."
There was a burst of scornful laughter from the bandits, but their leader looked thoughtful. "And why would we choose this 'honest work' instead of kidnapping you and holding you for ransom?" he asked.
"Well, if you kidnap us, there's a chance that one or both of us may die in an 'unfortunate accident' – and then you won't get anything," Katarina told him. "After that, no matter where you go, you will always have to fear that someday you will be hunted down and killed. And anyway, even if you get the ransom you want, when will you ever have the chance to spend it? A thousand gold dragons may sound like a lot of money, but money is no good to a dead man. In later years, when you are running in fear for your lives, you may wish that you had accepted my offer of honest work instead."
"Lady Katarina, your bravery is worthy of a song," said the bandit leader, laughing delightedly. "So, if I understand you correctly, you are offering us a lot less money, but the work will be much safer, there will be no chance that we will suffer harmful repercussions later on, and you will be paying us in advance?"
"Also, my father always needs good men to work for him," said Katarina. "If you do this for me, I'm sure he will have more work for you later on. You'll never need to be bandits again!"
"Are you seriously considering this, Tom?" asked one of the other bandits: a stocky, balding man with a weak chin.
"I'd say this is the best offer we've had in months," said the bandit leader. "Twenty silver stags for a couple of hour's work, with the possibility of more. It won't be difficult: we'll be in no danger, with no chance of being arrested, and we'll have the gratitude of some very important people. Don't you think that'd be worth it?"
"Kidnapping can get very messy," said the shaggy-bearded man, who seemed to think that he had some ground to make up. "We could all end up dead and never even see any of the ransom money. I vote to accept her offer."
Most of the other bandits agreed - or at least didn't openly disagree - so their leader said, "Very well, Lady Katarina Claes, I accept your offer on behalf of my brotherhood of former bandits. Deal with us fairly and we will do the same for you."
"What should I call you?" asked Katarina, handing him the bag full of silver coins. "I've been thinking of you as 'the bandit leader', but I can't call you that, can I?"
"I suppose there'd be little point in trying to hide my name: I have too much of a reputation in these parts," he said. "Call me Tom of Sevenstreams."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Tom," Katarina replied politely.
"Likewise," he said, with an amused smile.
Katarina helped Sienna get to her feet, dusted her off, and checked that she wasn't any worse than bruised: she had been dreadfully afraid that she might have caused her best friend a serious injury even as she was trying to save her life, but – as far as her inexpert eye could tell – she seemed unhurt. Breathing a sigh of relief, she hugged her and said, "I told you that I'd keep you safe."
"My heroine," said Sienna, nuzzling up against her.
Meanwhile, Anne and two of the former bandits were trying to rouse the coachman from his unconscious state. He woke up, but he seemed badly hurt: he was muzzy and faint, unable to walk without aid.
"Do you think it's a good idea to move him?" asked Anne, somewhat dubiously.
"We could leave him here to die of exposure, if you like," drawled the one-eyed man with the pot helmet.
"Uh… no, we'll take him with us," said Anne. "It's for the best."
They set off in the direction of the Claes manor house, which was less than three miles away. Even at a slow walking pace, the journey should have taken no longer than an hour.
Along the way, they were attacked by a pack of wolves.
"This is ridiculous!" Tom of Sevenstreams shook his head exasperatedly. "There are no wolves in these parts!"
"Not anymore, anyway," the shaggy-bearded man grunted. His yellow coat was now darkly stained with blood. During the fight, he had somewhat redeemed himself in Katarina's eyes by letting Sienna take shelter behind him and defending her with his life.
The wolves had fought with single-minded ferocity, determined to reach Sienna and tear her limb from limb. When they realised that, the former bandits had found it easy to outwit them, forcing them to attack a well-defended position and be shot to pieces, but before that there had been several moments of terror and confusion in which two men had died: one of them was the Claes family's injured coachman, the other was a man whom the other bandits referred to as 'Kyle'.
"I thought you said this wouldn't be dangerous, Tom!" yelled one of the other bandits: a young man with a clean-shaven face. "Two dead men say otherwise!"
"The pay had better be good," said a man who looked like he had moss growing in his beard. "None of us signed up for this."
"I have given you an advance, but I am sure my father will be willing to pay you more," Katarina hastened to reassure them. 'Especially when I tell him how valiantly you fought in my defence."
"Do you reckon he'll be looking for a new coachman?" asked the one-eyed man in the pot helmet, sounding vaguely hopeful.
"I'm sure he will." Katarina nodded. "Why, do you think you'd be good at the job?"
"How hard can it be?" he replied, shrugging.
They continued along the road until they reached the outer gates of the Claes family estate. Katarina rang the bell and had to wait for a servant to let them in. She then had to answer several awkward questions. By the time she got up to the manor house with her entourage, her father was waiting with a group of armed guards.
His gaze took in her soiled and tattered old clothes, the mud caked on her boots, and the grazes that could be seen wherever her bare skin was exposed. "What has happened, Katarina?" he asked, anxiously.
Sobbing, she threw herself into his arms. She was so distraught that it took him several minutes to get the full story out of her, even though Anne and Sienna were doing their best to provide helpful supplementary information.
"I see," he said at last. "You lied to me. You went into danger. You nearly got yourself and your best friend killed." He was stony-faced and his voice quivered with suppressed fury. "Because of your foolishness, you have been cursed by a wicked witch. How should I begin punishing you for any of this?"
"I'll never do it again!" Katarina promised, still blubbering.
"No, of course you won't," said her father. "There will be no more excursions, no more trips into town with only your maid as a chaperone, and no new dresses that your mother hasn't chosen for you."
"It's no more than I deserve," Katarina agreed.
"Also, Miss Shelley will be sacked without references," he added.
"No, father, you mustn't!" she cried. "I am to blame! She would never have let me do any of this if I hadn't bullied her into giving in!"
"Then perhaps you need a maid who would be willing to stand up to you if she knows that you are doing something wrong."
"I could never ask for a more loyal and steadfast maid than Anne Shelley," said Katarina. "Besides, I need her: Maggy the Frog made a prophecy about her too. If I can save her from a horrible fate, perhaps I can save myself as well!"
Her father fell silent, looking conflicted. "And Sienna?" he asked, after. "Didn't you say that she would be safe if she managed to survive until the end of today?"
"Well, possibly. I'm not entirely sure," Katarina admitted. "In truth, I have no idea when she will be out of danger. That's why I need to keep her close to me; I will look after her."
"All right, you may go. You and Sienna should get yourselves clean, put on fresh clothes, and then return to me here. Miss Shelley, go with them and make sure that they don't get into any further trouble: consider yourself on probation."
"And what will we be doing after we come back?" asked Katarina, with some trepidation.
"It occurs to me that the reason why you have been getting yourself into so much trouble is that you don't have enough to do. Even if you don't marry the prince – and I realise that seems like a distant possibility right now – you will someday need to be a good hostess and estate manager. Therefore, you will need proper training for your future role. To that end, the first thing you will be doing will be to serve some refreshments to your gallant saviours here," said her father, indicating the former bandits.
"Yes, father." Katarina nodded gratefully. "Thank you, father."
Duke Luigi Claes waited until the three grubby and bedraggled girls had left the room before he addressed the disreputable-looking men they had brought with them. "Tom Sevenstrings, do you still play the harp?" he asked, recognizing their apparent leader.
"I would if Lord Flores hadn't taken offense at one of my songs," said Tom. "He had some of his goons beat me up and smash my instrument, which is why I ended up wandering the woods with these fine fellows here." He grinned ruefully. "So, you might say that it turned out for the best."
"Yes, I suppose it was fortunate that you were all so heavily armed," the Duke said sardonically.
"We might not have fought off the wolves otherwise," Tom agreed.
The Duke sighed. "No matter how angry I feel about my daughter's recent behaviour, she is precious to me. Thank you all for saving her life. You have done me a great service and therefore you deserve a suitable reward: I will give each of you ten gold dragons."
"That will do nicely," said Tom, giving a whistle of approval. "Thank you, Your Grace."
"What about Kyle?" asked a stocky young man with a clean-shaven face. "He died defending your daughter, you know."
"Did he have any family?" asked the Duke. "If so, I will arrange for the money to be passed on to them."
"He never mentioned a wife or any children," said Tom. "But I suppose we can find out for you."
"I'd be obliged if you would."
"Also, Lady Katarina mentioned that you might have some jobs available," said a one-eyed man who for some reason was wearing a pot helmet.
The Duke nodded. "There is a place for each of you in my service if you want it."
"I wouldn't have thought you'd want a bunch of scruffy louts like us cluttering the place up," said a man who appeared to have moss growing in his beard. He gave a wary glance to the guards standing on either side of the Duke: trim and muscular young men, well-groomed and wearing elegant uniforms. Next to them, the brotherhood of former bandits looked like an unsavoury and mismatched group.
"Do not misunderstand me. I will give you a chance, which you have earned by your actions so far," said the Duke. "But if you prove to be unworthy of it, I will dismiss you at the earliest possible juncture."
"But even if that happens, we still get to keep the ten gold dragons, right?" said a shaggy-bearded man with bad teeth, a bloodstained yellow jacket, and a distrustful expression on his face.
"I would not steal from you what you have rightfully earned," said the Duke.
"Making you different from any other tax collector ever," said Tom of Sevenstreams, laughing cheekily.
"I don't collect taxes: I employ people to do that for me." The Duke smiled thinly. "Now, I must insist that you leave your weapons here before you go into the drawing room where, in a few minutes' time, my daughter will be serving tea and a selection of dainties."
"What are 'dainties'?" a pockmarked former bandit wanted to know. He put down his sword and crossbow on an ornately carved wooden chest in the corner of the room, which seemed to have been placed there as decoration. Several of his comrades followed his example.
"Finger food, Notch," Tom of Sevenstreams explained to him. He removed a pistol from his belt and added it to the growing pile. "Little cakes, sweet pastries, and so on."
"Here, this'll be something to tell your grandchildren, Tom," said the one-eyed man. "Won't they be agog to hear that you once had the future queen of Sorcier acting as your waitress?"
"Weren't you listening when she explained the witch's curse?" asked one of the other bandits. "If she never marries the prince, she'll never be queen, right?"
"This morning, my daughter was utterly convinced that one day she would be the queen of Sorcier. This afternoon, she has been convinced that it will never happen. Who knows what she will be convinced of tomorrow?" asked the Duke in a philosophical tone.
"It's not as if anyone will ever believe me, anyway," said Tom of Sevenstreams, shrugging his shoulders.
"Why not? They believe what you tell them about the size of your–"
"I must ask you to mind your language in front of my daughter," said the Duke, a note of warning in his voice. "No matter how much of a little hoyden she may seem, she is of noble birth. My wife would not thank you for expanding her vocabulary with any of the more ribald or obscene words you know."
"We'll be as courteous and well-mannered as any septon," Tom assured him.
"I've known some foul-mouthed septons," said the shaggy-bearded man. "We'll be better than that."
"Very well," said the Duke with a nod. "Follow me, then."
Later that evening, after Katarina had spent an hour or so acting as a serving girl, during which time she had tried to be as sweet and tractable as anyone could wish - a performance which Tom of Sevenstreams had described as 'disturbing' - she was called upon to have dinner with her parents. Fortunately, while she had been otherwise engaged, Anne had taken over her job of looking after Sienna, preventing her from tumbling down the stairs or having a grandfather clock collapse on top of her.
"I'll take care of her while we're having dinner," Katarina told her maid, who was looking frazzled. "You can rest now."
Her mother, the Duchess Miridiana Claes, reacted with barely-contained fury when she heard what her daughter had done. Although she was a beautiful, elegant woman in her late twenties, there was something about her expression that reminded Katarina of the snarling wolves that had been intent on ripping Sienna's throat out earlier that day.
She withered under the heat of her mother's disapproval, shrank away from her enraged scolding, and was reduced to a charred silhouette of her former self for the remainder of the meal. Even so, she remembered her promise to take care of Sienna.
"Seven save me!" cried her mother. "You don't need to cut up her food for her! She's not a baby or an invalid!"
"Actually… maybe she does," Sienna murmured, averting her gaze and looking shamefaced. "I seem to be very accident-prone. I'm not sure that I can be trusted with a knife and fork."
"It's not your fault," Katarina whispered to her. "You've been cursed!"
"So, what do you plan to do, Katarina?" asked her mother, in a voice laden with sorrow and exasperation. "Hand feed her for the rest of her life?"
"If necessary," she replied, with as much determination as she could muster.
"I have sent some of my men to fetch the old wise woman known as Maggy the Frog and bring her here so that we can discuss how the curses may be removed," said her father in a tone of affected calmness.
"Let us hope that will be an end to this madness," said her mother, taking a deep breath and sighing frustratedly.
Black night had fallen by the time that the Duke's soldiers reached Maggy the Frog's house. When they knocked on the door, no one answered. This was much as they had expected; undeterred, they proceeded to force their way inside.
By flickering lantern light, they noticed that the house was empty except for an old armchair with a mouldering corpse sitting on it: the mummified body of an old woman with no teeth and an almost hairless scalp. Something had eaten her eyes, nibbled at her nose, and stripped away much of the soft flesh from her bones. It appeared that she had been dead for months.
All around, every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust and ash. There were a few footprints signifying where looters had been, taking everything that could possibly be of value, leaving only a cold, lifeless husk.
Katarina woke up several times that night, just so that she could get up and make sure that Sienna was all right. Finally, achingly weary and unsure of whether or not she would make it back to her own bed, she climbed in beside her best friend, listening to her heartbeat and the rhythmic sounds of her soft breathing.
"I will take care of you," she vowed. "Always."
Author's Notes:
Maybe I'm the only one who finds this sort of thing funny, but… oh well, I don't mind.
I want to thank Raiseth (on SV), Flashkannon (on SV), and mariagonerlj (on AO3) for reading through this chapter and offering me some suggestions and corrections before I got around to finishing it. I really appreciate it!
You may notice that Sienna Nelson as she appears in this fic is rather different from the version of the character who appears in my other fic, The First Love of a Lowborn Light Mage, and not only because this fic takes place about ten years before. The main reason for this is that I have now read Verge of Destruction (thanks to jadebenn) and I am trying to make this version of Sienna more like the canon character.
This fic was largely based on the flashback sequence in Series 5 Episode 1 of Game of Thrones, in which a young Cersei Lannister (played by Nell Williams) meets a hedge witch named Maggy, as well as the corresponding flashback in George R. R. Martin's A Feast for Crows (in which the same character is nicknamed 'Maggy the Frog'). I have muddled together ideas from the book and the TV series – and added some of my own as well. It's a bit of a hodgepodge, but I can only hope that you find it entertaining.
Another one of my inspirations for this fic was Palhinhaea's Best Laid Plans (on AO3), in which OG!Katarina is visited by the ghosts of alternate versions of herself who all met with untimely deaths and have come back to warn her of what will happen if she can't find a way to save herself. This causes the Fortune Lover storyline to change as she focuses on what she needs to do to survive: in particular, while she is searching for allies, she befriends several lonely children who are captivated by the praise and affection she gives them. I'm sure you can see the parallels between Best Laid Plans and this fic, in which Maggy's prophecy causes OG!Katarina to change her ways, decide to 'screw destiny' and focus on doing what she needs to do to survive. I'm sure that when I continue this storyline, Katarina will go looking for allies and end up befriending several lonely children who… Haha, yeah, you can guess the rest. The 'cabbage-valanche' in this chapter was meant as a reference to one of my favourite moments from Best Laid Plans.
I have plenty of ideas for how Katarina will try to avoid her prophesied fate, as well as how she will interact with the other main characters from HameFura canon. If you have enjoyed reading this fic so far, please let me know what you think!
