A beautiful child, born to those who want.
But greed alas shall not be theirs to flaunt.
Tragedy strikes, foes beware!
The eldest throne shall bear no heir.
And upon the fourth year, after a weeks due. Illness shall strike; a friend's death will ensue.
And upon the third drop of the first wall. The father's throne, his ruling chair, shall fall.
And upon the tenth birthday, that which is best. A loving mother shall be put to rest.
Fates Ratiug, Tol and Ezilat Prophesier
Each year, three prophesiers would visit my father's house. He would take council with each one separately. Mother and I were always called to be present upon the first two but for the third, I would be pushed outside into the hallway to wait with my elder brothers and the two previous witches. The first memory of the creepy women that I had was the week before my fourth birthday. One of the witches, she called herself Ratiug, cornered me in the hallway while my brothers were preoccupied arguing about some boy matter.
Her hair was gray and stiff; it poked my forehead as she leaned close. Her eyes were gold and glittered with silver speckles. Her nose was long and crooked; it looked as though it had once been hooked towards her lips but some accident had caused her nose to flip sideways. She wore a witch's hat, a tall, black and pointy hat that barely balanced upon her stick hair. When she spoke to me, her breath came out in bellows of odorous stink; if I hadn't been so scared of the odd lady I probably would have made myself sick.
"You'd best watch your pup dear." She cackled, leaning away so her harmony- lacking laughter could be heard throughout the manor. My brothers broke from the argument and came to my aid. Jonasth, the oldest, picked up my shivering form and carried me back to the couch outside the door through which my parents and the third witch stood talking.
On my fourth birthday, a litter of pups was born of father's best hunting hounds. The runt of the litter was instantly my favorite and I bonded quickly to it. I had always had a soft spot for the outcasts. A week after their birth the runt pup died. I was in grief, a four-year-olds grief perhaps, but a period of grief that I remembered the rest of my life. It was then that I realized the importance of the witches that visited each year. They could tell future truths, and father was using them for his benefit.
From then on, I paid my closest attention to the witches that visited each year. I would stand close to my mother's side as we stood by father's desk. He would be pacing around behind his chair for while of the witch's presentations. I noticed I was the only child allowed to be present at the meetings between father and the first two witches. For the third witch only father and mother were allowed to watch her presentation.
My reasoning was simple. Mother had always favored me, her only daughter, over all her boys. The third witch must have been something else though. I decided her presentations must have been only for adult ears, such as the words that mother and father refused to tell the boys about. I was only partially right.
As I grew older, I realized the witches were prophesizing my life. One week before my birthday they would come and warn father about what would happen to me in the future year.
The two witches that I was allowed to visit with were Ratiug, the old lady with stick hair as I forever remembered her, and Tol, a young woman that completely contrasted Ratiug. Tol had bright red hair that was smooth as silk and always plaited prettily down her back. She had bright green eyes, and always wore a smile. Her clothes were that of a normal noble lady; an elegant but simple dress and a few jewels to adorn her neck and wrists. I always remembered her as clean only because she was so often compared to Ratiug in my mind.
I also remembered Tol as the humorous of the two. She would be serious in face of father and mother, predicting with confusing rhymes much like her counterpart, Ratiug, but when she approached me she would always present me with a magicians trick of some sort and tell me in more plain words the more frivolous of her prophesies.
I remembered in particular the week before my seventh birthday. Tol approached me in the hallway as the third witch spoke with my mother and father. She was whistling a jolly tune and searching the ceiling with great interest, but I had known she was coming for me. She calmly reached out her hand as if in offering to take mine. I was excited, this was my favorite trick, but I wouldn't show her; I reached out to take her hand. Before I could reach her fingertips however, a single rose popped out from midair. The witch presented it to me, and I took it gently in my own fingers. There were no thorns on its stems to harm me and its petals were an absolute pearly white.
"I'd avoid really big chairs if I were you." She grinned and patted my head. At that moment the third witch appeared from my father's office and the three were gone.
Our manor had trouble with carriages. Our front wall was so near to the main roadway that the especially loud thundering of large carriages easily toppled the less intricate of our gate segments. By my seventh birthday, the gates have completely toppled only twice. A few weeks after my seventh birthday, the king's own guard visited our manor to take us away to the king's court for presentation. As we left, a dog upon the road jolted the horses and the harsh correction we made to correct the horses' mistake took the carriage in path of our gate. The entirety of the less intricately constructed fence fell to the ground. Later, at the palace, as our father presented to the king, my youngest brother, in his intense curiosity with the golden thrones, accidentally pushed me into the side of the throne belonging to the Heir Prince. Luckily, the heir prince was absent, but unluckily, my collision with the chair toppled it off the dais that we all stood upon.
A/N: Yay for reviewers! Okay, that's all I had to say.
And upon the fourth year, after a weeks due. Illness shall strike; a friend's death will ensue.
And upon the third drop of the first wall. The father's throne, his ruling chair, shall fall.
And upon the tenth birthday, that which is best. A loving mother shall be put to rest.
Fates Ratiug, Tol and Ezilat Prophesier
Each year, three prophesiers would visit my father's house. He would take council with each one separately. Mother and I were always called to be present upon the first two but for the third, I would be pushed outside into the hallway to wait with my elder brothers and the two previous witches. The first memory of the creepy women that I had was the week before my fourth birthday. One of the witches, she called herself Ratiug, cornered me in the hallway while my brothers were preoccupied arguing about some boy matter.
Her hair was gray and stiff; it poked my forehead as she leaned close. Her eyes were gold and glittered with silver speckles. Her nose was long and crooked; it looked as though it had once been hooked towards her lips but some accident had caused her nose to flip sideways. She wore a witch's hat, a tall, black and pointy hat that barely balanced upon her stick hair. When she spoke to me, her breath came out in bellows of odorous stink; if I hadn't been so scared of the odd lady I probably would have made myself sick.
"You'd best watch your pup dear." She cackled, leaning away so her harmony- lacking laughter could be heard throughout the manor. My brothers broke from the argument and came to my aid. Jonasth, the oldest, picked up my shivering form and carried me back to the couch outside the door through which my parents and the third witch stood talking.
On my fourth birthday, a litter of pups was born of father's best hunting hounds. The runt of the litter was instantly my favorite and I bonded quickly to it. I had always had a soft spot for the outcasts. A week after their birth the runt pup died. I was in grief, a four-year-olds grief perhaps, but a period of grief that I remembered the rest of my life. It was then that I realized the importance of the witches that visited each year. They could tell future truths, and father was using them for his benefit.
From then on, I paid my closest attention to the witches that visited each year. I would stand close to my mother's side as we stood by father's desk. He would be pacing around behind his chair for while of the witch's presentations. I noticed I was the only child allowed to be present at the meetings between father and the first two witches. For the third witch only father and mother were allowed to watch her presentation.
My reasoning was simple. Mother had always favored me, her only daughter, over all her boys. The third witch must have been something else though. I decided her presentations must have been only for adult ears, such as the words that mother and father refused to tell the boys about. I was only partially right.
As I grew older, I realized the witches were prophesizing my life. One week before my birthday they would come and warn father about what would happen to me in the future year.
The two witches that I was allowed to visit with were Ratiug, the old lady with stick hair as I forever remembered her, and Tol, a young woman that completely contrasted Ratiug. Tol had bright red hair that was smooth as silk and always plaited prettily down her back. She had bright green eyes, and always wore a smile. Her clothes were that of a normal noble lady; an elegant but simple dress and a few jewels to adorn her neck and wrists. I always remembered her as clean only because she was so often compared to Ratiug in my mind.
I also remembered Tol as the humorous of the two. She would be serious in face of father and mother, predicting with confusing rhymes much like her counterpart, Ratiug, but when she approached me she would always present me with a magicians trick of some sort and tell me in more plain words the more frivolous of her prophesies.
I remembered in particular the week before my seventh birthday. Tol approached me in the hallway as the third witch spoke with my mother and father. She was whistling a jolly tune and searching the ceiling with great interest, but I had known she was coming for me. She calmly reached out her hand as if in offering to take mine. I was excited, this was my favorite trick, but I wouldn't show her; I reached out to take her hand. Before I could reach her fingertips however, a single rose popped out from midair. The witch presented it to me, and I took it gently in my own fingers. There were no thorns on its stems to harm me and its petals were an absolute pearly white.
"I'd avoid really big chairs if I were you." She grinned and patted my head. At that moment the third witch appeared from my father's office and the three were gone.
Our manor had trouble with carriages. Our front wall was so near to the main roadway that the especially loud thundering of large carriages easily toppled the less intricate of our gate segments. By my seventh birthday, the gates have completely toppled only twice. A few weeks after my seventh birthday, the king's own guard visited our manor to take us away to the king's court for presentation. As we left, a dog upon the road jolted the horses and the harsh correction we made to correct the horses' mistake took the carriage in path of our gate. The entirety of the less intricately constructed fence fell to the ground. Later, at the palace, as our father presented to the king, my youngest brother, in his intense curiosity with the golden thrones, accidentally pushed me into the side of the throne belonging to the Heir Prince. Luckily, the heir prince was absent, but unluckily, my collision with the chair toppled it off the dais that we all stood upon.
A/N: Yay for reviewers! Okay, that's all I had to say.