2A/N- Well, whaddya know? I'm not dead yet! I figured that one of you would come murder me in my sleep if I didn't update quick enough for ya'll. (my sister's living in Texas, as you can see, it's had an effect on my vocabulary ;) ) This may or may not get updated, depending on how industrious I'm feeling. Hope you like it- REVIEW, YOU POT SMOKIN' HICKS! (that would be directed at Cacahuate Loca, Tweak McFreak and Rakesha, who all live in the same hicky-ish area I do.)
Fate. The word had always seemed a strange, bewildering thing to me. My whole life it was always changing, never staying at one constant style, language, or behavior, and fate was the cause of it. It started when I was quite young, and I remember on conversation with my mother very clearly.
"Mummy," I asked on a cloudy grey morning, "how come you and I gets a new dress?" "Get, darling," corrected my mother, who was applying face paint (quite popular at the time) and straitening out her new pink and white lace gown. She smiled slightly, her attention to her make-up unwavering as she answered my question.
"Because, duckling, the old dresses we had were last year's fashions. As part of the ruling family, we must be presentable." She smiled and turned to me, then frowned as she saw the state of my black tresses. "No, Cerissa that will never do. A princess in the house of Starre never goes out looking like that." Picking me up and setting me on her lap, she started smoothing out my hair with an ivory brush. I started falling asleep to the sound of my mother's soft singing and the rhythmic movement of the brush. I was nearly asleep when my father came in, quite as ever, with his cat-like grace and charismatic smile. He could grin as he scolded you and charm his way out of a lion's den. I smiled sleepily at him while he bent over to kiss Mother. "Ready to leave?" he asked. His voice sounded like a dull roar of a lion in my drowsy state. I felt my mother nod, and I drifted off to sleep completely.
That was the last night I spent in my first home, the Royal Palace of Starre. Many weeks later we were in the keep of Jarnor, way up north in the Kingdom. I hated it terribly. It was cold, so cold I could feel it deep in my bones, a dull ache. And it was boring.
I never cared for the people of Jarnor. They were as cold as the weather, and as hard as the stone the castle was made of. I didn't have a friend, and despite my tough attitude I was lonely. The other children viewed me with as much contempt as I did to them, I called them son's of pigs and they called me "Bastard Girl", which, I suppose, was as true as my insult to them. My father was not the trueborn son of the king, only granted the title of prince on one of the kings frequent whims. My mother was as common as they come, though in my opinion much more beautiful than any of the stuffy Dames or Countesses at court. In truth, I was only a princess in title, not by blood. But no bastard.
I adjusted, as I usually do, and eventually I grew to love the high cliffs and summits of Jarnor. I managed to be a part of both worlds- I learned dancing and etiquette from Septa Moana, and disguised myself as a peasant to learn archery and self defense from the guards. I explored, I matured, I grew up blissfully unaware of the reality of my fate. It was on my fourteenth naming day that I learned the truth.
The celebration for my coming of age was, for lack of a better term, huge. We had dancers, tumblers, mummers- anything my mother could think of was included in the party. And, like other celebrations, it was also an excuse for an excessive amount of drinking. I dealt with that like I usually dealt with other things that displeased me- I snuck out.
Jarnor Forest was perhaps my favorite place as a child. It was like the forests in books- dark and mysterious, almost magical. Of course, I wasn't childish enough at fourteen to believe in magic. Magic had died in the Unicorn wars, when man had fought dragons and fairies alike. There was quite a bit of blood, and enough dead that finally, the pacifist Unicorns had interfered, sealing magic in the Forgotten Realm, and sacrificing there very existence in the process. I always called Jarnor Forest "my forest", because I believed I spent more time in it than anyone else, and so in my eyes it should belong to me, not to the king, who had never even looked upon it. I traveled through the deer paths with a practiced ease, my stride smooth and confident despite the discomfort of my new red wool gown. Finally, I reached the part of my forest that belonged most to me, a small clearing with a cool stream and an aged willow tree.
Pulling back the branches easily, I threw myself against the twisted trunk. The tree, Willow, as I called it, was my sole confidant and keeper of all my secrets, though few. It had been nearly a year since the snows had cleared enough for me to travel, and so many new things had happened that year that I felt as if I would burst if I could not come there sooner. I poured out all my tales, about my courses starting and the curious looks I had been getting from the "sons of pigs", who were now shockingly taller than me and had recently desisted in calling me "bastard girl" and had started staring at me for long amounts of time. It was all quite puzzling to me, and somehow I felt better when I confessed to Willow. She never laughed at me, like my mother, and never complained about my "endless chattering" like Septa Moana. When I finally fell silent, I could have sworn that I heard low laughter. Straining my ears, I gasped. There was defiantly someone laughing at me.
"Chaos," I swore, "if you son's of pigs have followed me I swear I shall box your ears. Or perhaps Father will have you whipped." I pretended to laugh mockingly as I drew back Willow's branches angrily, my hands on my hips as I stepped out into the moonlight. What I saw there made me gasp again.
It was a gleaming white beast, a horse with great silver wings flowing from its back. It was about a foot taller than me, and I was no stump, and had glowing grey-green eyes, eyes not unlike my own. A long twisting white horn was on its forehead, and starlight rained around it. I knew, from all the tales, that what I was gaping at was an honest-to-goddess Unicorn.
Timidly I took a step forward, unsure if I should bow or throw my arms around its neck. A feeling of peace stole over me, and went with my second impulse, leaping forward and clinging to its neck. I had never felt so happy in my life, but at the same time I was wary of the sense of calm radiating from the creature.
-I have come.- The voice came from the Unicorn, and I was surprised to find that it was low and smooth, not unlike my fathers own voice.
"W-why," I stuttered. "The legends say that your kind perished."
-I have come, - the Unicorn continued, its tone amused, -to tell you of your fate.-
"My fate? I have a fate?"
The Unicorn chuckled. -All creatures have a fate, Cerissa. Yours is just more… involved than most.- He seemed to take a mental breath. -The King must be overthrown.-
This was not new knowledge for me. My father always spoke of the king as his mad father, who seemed to care more for his own personal pleasures than for the welfare of his own people. I nodded.
The Unicorn continued. -You are to play a part in this, as am I. The King must be overthrown, and magic is the way to do it.-
"Magic? But magic has faded, as the Unicorns passed- Oh."
Another chuckle. -I have returned, the lone remaining Unicorn of Kingdom, to tell the Starred One of her fate and of the Blessed Birth. You are to be the one who will bear the Horned Child and bring down the Un-Sent King. It is written.-
I rubbed my head, trying to comprehend the message being told to me. "I-I shall bear a Horned Child? But how-"
-I am sent to give you the seed.-
I stopped rubbing my head, a faint blush spreading on my face. What it-he was suggesting was not even physically possible. "What will Mother say about this?" I muttered, thinking of my mothers recent suggestions of betrothal.
The Unicorn looked at me sadly. -I will show you why you must end the Un-Sent King's reign. I will show you.- And with that, he touched his horn to my brow.
Images flew around me, the forest a blur, yet I stood unmoving as I watched the scene play in the Unicorn's glowing wide eyes. The stone keep, my home of ten years, was burning an unnatural white blaze. A man with a mad, heavily lined face laughed on a horse with armed men about him. I saw, through the Unicorn's eyes, my home destroyed, and King Henrai slaying my family, naming them traitors to the crown they swore to serve- every last member, even my brother who was no more than two. Henrai was mad, and I believed it whole heartedly at that moment.
I closed my eyes and let the tears trickle down my face. I suddenly felt warm arms about me. My eyes flew open, tears raining down my cheeks, and looked up into grey-green eyes. The Unicorn was before me, no longer like horse, but walking like Man.
"I am sorry, Cerissa." His verbal voice held the same power that the mental did, but somehow I was more comforted by its sound.
He took an awkward step back, eyes never leaving mine, and held out a pale, slender hand. I looked at it for a moment, trying to make one of the most important choices of my lifetime. Finally, I took his hand, and we stepped forward to our fates.
A/N- Love it? Hate it? Want more? Then tell me!
R&R! SIDE NOTE TO KUMI SATAKI: You emailed me the comments about this, and I'm sorry it's taken so long to respond to them. Woo, okay- if I remember correctly, your question was something about if Cerissa was so innocent, and didn't under stand why "The Son's of Pigs" were looking at her so strange, then how come she understood what the Unicorn was telling her. Well, I've thought long and hard about what you asked, and I finally came up with an answer- Something about the Unicorn made things VERY obvious to her (cough to Cacahuate Locasoulmateprinciplecough), and will all be explained at a later date. Oh, Kumi, for some reason, the dumb hunk of plastic -thwaks computer- wont let me email you. :( ish very sad