Ah! My Repunzel, let down your long hair.
Ah! Dear Repunzel, wrap me in your arms.
Ah! Sweet Repunzel, weave a ladder to freedom.
Ah! Then Repunzel, sing me a dirge.
Witch's Child
"Up, girl. To work." The command was brief, the words given to a certain coarseness of fiber that only long years and a hardened heart could lend. Rhanna got the point.
"Yes." The daughter of Ralph Ablator flicked her blanket aside and slipped out of bed, looking down towards the floor but sparing no glance towards her elder.
He, thinking she was fearful and bent to his will, did smile then. "Ah, dear Rhanna." He purred. "You must put your skills to work, and make three swords the likes of which you have not been called on to fashion before."
"Have you ordered new materials?" Rhanna spoke softly, her gaze a steady midnight flecked with defiant stars, though only the knotted wood of the floor felt its calculation.
"Yes," The burly man spoke, knuckles red and flaked with dirt, "Only the best for these. The profit shall set us up well for a year at least. I am thinking about expanding the business."
Rhanna laughed softly. "I can only make so many swords father."
"Well once our fame spreads, no one will really care if the sword is good or not, no? Having an Ablator Blade itself will be the prize."
"If you say so."
"Rhanna, are you being sarcastic?" Ralph clenched his fist tighter and swore. "Girl, you are my property and you will follow my commands. Sometimes I think you forget that you are bound to my possession, just as your mother was and her mother before her."
Rhanna looked at him coolly, brushing back a lock of silvery blond hair. "The men of your family have been stealing the women of mine for generations and selling them to the highest bidder. You are no father, but a thief."
The elder man struck a sharp blow to the girl's cheek, but she did not flinch. "You presume to much on my goodwill. I could sell you for a far greater price than I could ever get selling swords. Why that Lucius Malfoy – you will recall he bought a cane from us some years ago – I am quite sure he would be interested." Ralph lay a hand on his daughter's hair, petting it gently. "Why you even look related. I am quite sure he would make me an offer I just could not refuse."
Rhanna hissed lowly. "You dare to treat my kind as if we were house elfs!"
He laughed then, perhaps amused at finally arousing Rhanna's anger. "Your great grandmother was cursed, that all her line should forever be slaves until their blood died out. Who better but me to collect on that debt? I am your father, and you do well to remember that. You know where your cloak lies, take it – but you'll be dead within the day. Now come with me, we are wasting that time you hold so precious."
Rhanna followed him, having no choice, but held her head high and her gaze steady. When her father made sure to lead her by the celestial cloak, a silvery cloth draped over an ornate sword that hung in the living room, she did not so much as glance in its direction.
Ah! Dear Repunzel, wrap me in your arms.
Ah! Sweet Repunzel, weave a ladder to freedom.
Ah! Then Repunzel, sing me a dirge.
Witch's Child
"Up, girl. To work." The command was brief, the words given to a certain coarseness of fiber that only long years and a hardened heart could lend. Rhanna got the point.
"Yes." The daughter of Ralph Ablator flicked her blanket aside and slipped out of bed, looking down towards the floor but sparing no glance towards her elder.
He, thinking she was fearful and bent to his will, did smile then. "Ah, dear Rhanna." He purred. "You must put your skills to work, and make three swords the likes of which you have not been called on to fashion before."
"Have you ordered new materials?" Rhanna spoke softly, her gaze a steady midnight flecked with defiant stars, though only the knotted wood of the floor felt its calculation.
"Yes," The burly man spoke, knuckles red and flaked with dirt, "Only the best for these. The profit shall set us up well for a year at least. I am thinking about expanding the business."
Rhanna laughed softly. "I can only make so many swords father."
"Well once our fame spreads, no one will really care if the sword is good or not, no? Having an Ablator Blade itself will be the prize."
"If you say so."
"Rhanna, are you being sarcastic?" Ralph clenched his fist tighter and swore. "Girl, you are my property and you will follow my commands. Sometimes I think you forget that you are bound to my possession, just as your mother was and her mother before her."
Rhanna looked at him coolly, brushing back a lock of silvery blond hair. "The men of your family have been stealing the women of mine for generations and selling them to the highest bidder. You are no father, but a thief."
The elder man struck a sharp blow to the girl's cheek, but she did not flinch. "You presume to much on my goodwill. I could sell you for a far greater price than I could ever get selling swords. Why that Lucius Malfoy – you will recall he bought a cane from us some years ago – I am quite sure he would be interested." Ralph lay a hand on his daughter's hair, petting it gently. "Why you even look related. I am quite sure he would make me an offer I just could not refuse."
Rhanna hissed lowly. "You dare to treat my kind as if we were house elfs!"
He laughed then, perhaps amused at finally arousing Rhanna's anger. "Your great grandmother was cursed, that all her line should forever be slaves until their blood died out. Who better but me to collect on that debt? I am your father, and you do well to remember that. You know where your cloak lies, take it – but you'll be dead within the day. Now come with me, we are wasting that time you hold so precious."
Rhanna followed him, having no choice, but held her head high and her gaze steady. When her father made sure to lead her by the celestial cloak, a silvery cloth draped over an ornate sword that hung in the living room, she did not so much as glance in its direction.