Disclaimer: I don't own DP.

BGM: "Setsu-Getsu-Ka" composed by sista and Bumpy Urushi, sung by Yuzuki Yukari.

The Origin of the Curse

The castle with its lonely tower sat at the top of a hill, and beneath that hill was a busy town by the name of Amity Park. It wasn't the biggest town, or the richest, but for the most part its inhabitants agreed it was a nice place to live. Well, at least as long as farmers remembered to put milk out every night and merchants kept an eye out for coin that crumbled to dirt and leaves, and craftsmen were very, very polite to strange visitors that wore exotic silks and did not give their names. You see, Amity Park was in one of those odd places where reality was worn rather thin, like a bolt of expensive fabric worn too long and hard. This meant that all manner of strange things found their way to this little town, and that those who first settled this little valley had a choice to make.

Its founders might have chosen to drive out all these strange things, but that would have driven out the flighty spirits of breeze and brook, and the timid keepers of the forest and field, and then where would they be? It would have killed the land and strangled the town before it was anything more than a hamlet. No, that was no choice at all.

Perhaps, they could have given in and let the spirits have their way. But then what would happen to their grand vision of a prosperous trade-town, a center of power unlike any other in this age? Unacceptable!

No, they took the middle route, and some say that this was the maddest idea of them all. The first Duke of Amity, a quiet and unassuming man whose father had been a merchant himself until the king had granted him a title (for reasons that shall remain undisclosed), took his books and a hired magic-worker into the forest, and came out with a signed and sealed writ of armistice. There had long been an unspoken agreement between the humans and the spirits of the land that could be boiled down to "Leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone." In this case, "us" meant the spirits and "you" meant the humans. The first Duke of Amity was simply the first to make it official in such a human way – he wrote it down, and in so doing guaranteed that the agreement could be renewed beyond his death so long as each successive lord took care to sign the writ upon being instated.

Each successive Duke did indeed take great care to read and sign the writ upon being instated. As a result, after only three generations Amity Park had become the largest and richest town in an otherwise unremarkable duchy on the western edge of the empire.

And why, you ask, was the first Duke so insistent on building his town in this exact place? You are listening, aren't you? Reality was thin in that valley, so thin that creatures of magic could walk in broad daylight without a second thought, and the flow of magic in the air itself was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The first Duke knew exactly what he was doing, money-wise. There was always profit to be made in such an untapped well.

The problem was, he hadn't the first clue what he was doing magic-wise. Oh, he brokered his deals with the spirits of the land, and he negotiated well enough to ensure the prosperity and relative safety of its people for the span of his years and then some. He just forgot to take into account that spirits take a very unpleasant view of those who attempt to cheat them, and that most people weren't all that honest in most dealings. On top of that, he never realized that people who live their whole lives practically swimming in magic are a lot more likely to be able to use magic themselves. And of course, he forgot that humans with magic are just as prone to human error as anyone else.

One of the stipulations of the writ was that all the important spirits around Amity Park get an invitation to the naming ceremonies of the Duke's children. There's no need on their end to show, and few do, but they have to be invited. Now just a few years ago, when the current Duke's wife was writing the list of invitations to her unborn child's naming ceremony, she didn't bother to double-check if she'd missed one.

You can guess where this is going, can't you? Some big-shot spirit didn't get invited, got offended, and cursed the baby. Then, the parents cursed themselves for being idiots.

The Duke then asked the nearest magic user, an old sorcerer (and old business partner of the Duke's), to explain what it meant. The sorcerer being of the less scrupulous variety of magic user, he saw a chance to profit from the Duchess' folly, and twisted his interpretation of the curse to the worst possible light.

The original curse had been the old classic "Girl Dies on Her Sixteenth Birthday", usually of a spindle or a spinning wheel, but this one was a bit different.

This was the original curse, which by the way doesn't even keep to a strict rhyme scheme:

"By the first night of her sixteenth year,
The girl will look upon the face of man
And know the mask of death ere moon's end."

Here's what the old creep said it meant:

"The girl will see a man's face when she turns sixteen, and she will die within a month."

By then, nearly all of the guests had given their naming gifts. However, not everyone at the ceremony had been invited. After all, who would have expected the Master of Time to attend a mortal child's naming ceremony of all things? Now, this particular big-shot couldn't interfere directly, but that didn't mean he couldn't drop a few pointed comments in the general direction of one particular spirit that just came for the free food and brought the kid a moving picture book, and should have just given her parents the book right after her name was given instead of raiding the buffet first. Anyways, said poor sucker was "asked" to find a loophole in the curse. Not wanting to tick off one of the greater powers, said poor sucker hopped to.

Being on the spot, the first thing that came to mind was to flip it around, so he walked up to the parents and the baby in her little bassinet and said, "Wait, wait! I haven't given my gift yet, and I'm pretty good at incantations. Let me try and fix it!"

Then he started talking, and before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, this came out:

"By the night of her sixteenth year
Under silver moonlight clear
In her gaze, a death is made
By her will, a fate is stayed
Either way, her end's not here."

And then he realized he'd just come up with a limerick of all things, and high-tailed it out of there before he could embarrass herself any worse. Wound up sending the kid the picture book for her first birthday, and she definitely got it, because it never popped back up in my library.

Now she's getting to the age where she's going to notice boys, and if she's anything like as stubborn as I've heard, being locked up in a tower isn't going to stop her from meeting them. I just know this is going to end badly, but I just can't help but want to know what happens next.

So, that was the story of how the duchy got there, and how its capital got there, and how the Duke's only child was cursed.

Now, what have we here? It seems that the gardener, prickly old grouch that he is, is hiring help in preparation for the little duchess' fourteenth birthday.

Yes, because there's no way that could go wrong.

(Did I really just write that? …Oops. Note to self: Never let the Duchess, either duchess for that matter, see this manuscript. Ever.)

At any rate, the Duke's gardener is in the town square searching for a strong young man willing to work long hours. Failing that, he will take anyone capable of using a pair of garden shears without losing a hand. Conveniently enough, there is a boy in need of work.

A/N: I may have to go back and edit this later. And stop trying to write sleep-deprived. Read and review, please.