Word count: 2,126
Title: Foretold
A/N: I'm stepping in to take Alice's place!
Spoiler
Alvena fastened the dagger around her hip, ensuring that protection would be in place in case it would be necessary. (And it would be necessary.) Her gaze caught on her sleeping friends, who were both perfectly content in resting under the light from the pale moon. However, Alvena couldn’t rid herself of the horrible feeling gnawing away at her brain. Mist clouded over her mind and she could reach out her hands and swirl it in the air, watching as visions transpired in front of her.
The clashing of two swords — one familiar and one distant —, fire tickling against charred armor, spilled buckets of soap, and the door to her tower left open, the lock broken. Large footsteps clear and red in contrast to the white snow on the ground. Shouting and screaming echoed in her ears, being one of the few things she had heard since she was a child. Smoke and charred flesh burned her nose.
She leaned up against cold stone wall, closing her eyes, trying to vanish away the heavy mist before she was caught practicing witchcraft. Her movements were long and slow, not quite as fast as she needed them to be for battle. ’A princess must always have her wits about her,’ she laughed to herself, remembering that old saying from her mother. How can I have my wits about myself when I’m locked up here?
That was really the question, since it was difficult to hone her skills when she was trapped inside of a cold tower, with only a dragon and a servant for friends. Both of them were curled up on the purple plush chair that she should have spent her days reading in, both at peace with the world and blissfully unaware about the happenings of the future. Oddly enough, Meggy and Dreda’s breathing had synchronized in a fashion, with Meggy’s chest falling as the hints of smoke emerged from Dreda’s snout.
”You two are so adorable,” Alvena signed, her clawed hand extending out from her as she laughed wordlessly. They were both shameless, really. It was a good thing that they weren’t there to see her teasing, otherwise Dreda’s indignant look would have sent her into a laughing fit.
Although, worried tugged at the corners of Alvena’s mind, which caused her amusement to fade with a fast chill racing down her spine. Her 17th birthday would not go as planned, but only she and one other person knew it.
That other person was a stranger, with a sharp sword and a wicked smile.
Alvena did not sleep that night, not even daring to enter her chambers to feign rest. Instead, she found herself taking out her dagger to sharpen it again. She found herself lighting a lantern to retrieve her sword — “in case of emergencies” she had read — and the rest of her armor. She found herself preparing for the battle that she hoped would never come.
-
It did come, however. Quickly, but Alvena was ready. Her dagger was by her side and she tight plated armor that was fitted for a twelve-year-old rather than a sixteen-year-old, with her breathing somewhat restricted. Determination rang true on her face, however, as she waited for her friends to display some signs of alarm to tell her to fetch her sword and fight. A princess must always have her wits about her. She had been dreading this day since she had been locked up, but she hadn’t been certain.
“—porridge.” Meggy signed, eyebrows furrowed and a glint of concern in her blue eyes. Her signing of slower than normal, even for someone that wasn’t fully accustomed to the language.
Alvena shook her head, removing her hand from her side and instead signing, “Sorry, wasn’t paying attention. What?” Her own words more choppy than normal, but too many things weighed on her mind.
Meggy repeated, “Why haven’t you eaten your porridge?” She then moved her hands down to her hips in a disapproving position, with her lips curved in apparent disapproval. It was times like those when Alvena saw Meggy as older — a motherly maid all dressed in brown with a stained apron instead of a child two years her younger.
The silver bowl was on the floor by Alvena’s feet, still somewhat steaming but for the most part untouched. “Sorry again. I wasn’t really hungry, Meggy.” The girl’s sign name was a mash up between the mock of servant and of the genuine sign for friend, which fit Meggy quite nicely.
Meggy nodded, understanding. Although, understanding for the wrong reasons. “Back to the courts, correct? Seventeen and back to society.”
Alvena nodded and then leaned over to pick up the bowl, sharply noticing the constriction and pain in her ribs. Her armor hadn’t been fitted right and it honestly might have been better fitted on Meggy — even though Meggy was fifteen rather than twelve, she was still small. At least, according to Alvena’s skewed view of age. Being locked in a tower could do that to a person.
“Dreda comes back from her daily search soon.” Dreda’s name was simply ‘small dragon’, which their companion was somewhat offended by but had learned to accept over the past five years. “Maybe you will tell a story from your books to us? I can bake cake afterward.” Meggy’s cheeks flushed and Alvena then realized for the fiftieth time that her friend hadn’t been taught how to reach as a child.
“Of course!” Her words were falsely enthusiastic, however, as fear churned in the corner of her stomach.
-
Dreda came back a little after noon had passed, with wide eyes and a frantic tail that she swished about, knocking papers and tomes off of shelving. Her red scales were glittering and her snout was hot to touch. Alvena feared the worst while she waited for Meggy to translate Dreda’s English, and the worst came true. Meggy’s words were slower than before and a solemn look covered her face.
“A knight is coming to rescue you, bringing you back to the kingdom.” Meggy looked down at her stained apron, looked back up into Alvena’s eyes and continued. “He’s about to take you away from us and we can’t stop him, he’s too powerful.” Her sign started to become shakier and shakier, until the last few lines were hard to read at all.
“We’ll be fine,” Alvena signed stiffly, then gesturing down at the armor that she had struggle to put on, then continuing to bring attention to the sheath on her belt. “I’ll protect us.”
She lifted her gaze, so she could see Dreda who was holed up on the chair, trying hide away from the rest of the world. It was funny, considering that her parents had found one of the finest dragon trainees in order to protect their ‘oh so poor deaf daughter who couldn’t possibly fend for herself now that she couldn’t hear’. The buying of a dragon was ridiculous, but she had gained a friend and some company to live with her in the drafty tower, so who was she to complain?
“How?” Meggy asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Alvena marched over to the burning fireplace and took the fire iron out of the stand, extending it out for her maid. Meggy took it, although hesitantly with worry still written all over the front of her face.
“Skewer them,” Alvena signed.
-
Alvena watched as Dreda waited by the stairs, the spikes on her tail swishing back and forth in the air as she waited for the knight to arrive. The dragon looked oddly determined, with yellow eyes not once straying from her intended position. Oddly focused for such a catlike creature. Alvena debated tossing over a few feathers to see if Dreda’s attention would waver, but she wasn’t one to bet her own life like that.
Although, the thought was amusing to entertain.
She snapped her gaze back to Meggy, who had set down the fire iron that she had previously been twirling in her fingers. Meggy’s gaze was accusatory, “You weren’t surprised. You were expecting this. Witchcraft, correct?” Sharper than usual, faster than usual, more betrayed than usual. “Seer magic, Alvena. You didn’t want us to know?”
Alvena’s own name was the sign for princess, combined with ‘deaf’. A crown by the ear.
“No, no, no.” Alvena signed, “Yes and no. Witchcraft with good intentions. I also wanted you to know, Meggy. Believe me. It was sudden, I didn’t cause it—” But Meggy stopped maintaining eye contact, instead looking over to Dreda with alarm.
He was there. Coming up the stairs. The door had been left open, with bloodstained snow left in his wake. His feet would drag up the steps, as he tried to search for his beautiful princess. If she could remember what clunking sounded like, then she would have bet that his sword did that against the steps.
She turned around, drawing her sword and getting ready to fight. I’m not leaving here until I’m ready, she thought. And no one can make me go back to the courts. They cast me out at a moment’s notice, what would stop them from taking me back here and locking me up again? Her hands started to sweat and she was painfully aware that she had never had the ability to take up sword fighting lessons. She didn’t even have any books telling her about the technique. ‘In case of emergencies,’ was the sentence that she had read on her mother’s lips. What am I supposed to do in emergencies if I can even fight properly?
She swallowed that back and tried to level with the sword, not even looking back at Meggy to continue the conversation. They could talk about it later, after the fight was over. They could talk about it after they had both convinced the knight to go back where he came from. They could talk about it later.
Alvena didn’t expect the fact that the knight might be quicker on his feet than her dragon was, she didn’t expect that with wins, there would be losses. Alvena didn’t expect a sharp sword, polished armor, and someone actually young. She didn’t expect that she would be able to see his face at all, with his messy hair.
She didn’t really expect that Dreda would be distracted, she didn’t really expect the ally to be skewered. But that happened in front of her eyes, within seconds.
Dreda’s face had turned toward her, with eyes wide and mouth open spurting one last bit of flame. Alvena’s vision turned to dust inside of her head, no longer seeing the reality of her friend fighting by her side with glorious fire. Scales in a heap on the floor, as the girl transformed into a dragon protector would no longer be able to do her task.
The sword twisted and then exited her friend’s neck, gleaming with blood. (Red blood trickled down red scales, spilling into an upsetting pool on the stone floor. Life spilled from a dead body, never to return. Sad, really.) The knight looked triumphant, as if he had slain a terrible beast instead of a near and dear friend. His mouth moved in an odd fashion and Alvena couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, but she didn’t want to either.
She wanted to stab him and then through him out of the tower, to watch as his back hit the bramble bushes below.
Alvan couldn’t understand how it had happened so fast.
“_ ____ _____ the beast, __ love! ___ ___ saved. _e my bride.” Only a few words here and there, with a glint of accomplishment shining through his blue eyes. He slid his sword back into his sheath, extending his hand out in what Alvena could have considered to be a friendly matter. He looked eager, young, with the entire world at his fingertips.
She shook her head and stepped back, raising her sword to his neck.
Only Meggy intervened just in time, going to confront the man as she had her hands balled into fists of absolute rage. The fire iron had probably been cast on the floor, forgotten about. Fists as weapons.
Meggy started to yell, at least, Alvena suspected that. She took the distraction of her servant in order to rush over to Dreda, whose last moments had already past in the few seconds that it took the princess process everything that had transpired. The only thing Alvena could do was caress Dreda’s scales and attempt to hold back sobs.
She didn’t know about the knight’s true intentions, but she was right, there would be a battle.
The clashing of two swords — one familiar and one distant —, fire tickling against charred armor, spilled buckets of soap, and the door to her tower left open, the lock broken. Large footsteps clear and red in contrast to the white snow on the ground. Shouting and screaming echoed in her ears, being one of the few things she had heard since she was a child. Smoke and charred flesh burned her nose.
She leaned up against cold stone wall, closing her eyes, trying to vanish away the heavy mist before she was caught practicing witchcraft. Her movements were long and slow, not quite as fast as she needed them to be for battle. ’A princess must always have her wits about her,’ she laughed to herself, remembering that old saying from her mother. How can I have my wits about myself when I’m locked up here?
That was really the question, since it was difficult to hone her skills when she was trapped inside of a cold tower, with only a dragon and a servant for friends. Both of them were curled up on the purple plush chair that she should have spent her days reading in, both at peace with the world and blissfully unaware about the happenings of the future. Oddly enough, Meggy and Dreda’s breathing had synchronized in a fashion, with Meggy’s chest falling as the hints of smoke emerged from Dreda’s snout.
”You two are so adorable,” Alvena signed, her clawed hand extending out from her as she laughed wordlessly. They were both shameless, really. It was a good thing that they weren’t there to see her teasing, otherwise Dreda’s indignant look would have sent her into a laughing fit.
Although, worried tugged at the corners of Alvena’s mind, which caused her amusement to fade with a fast chill racing down her spine. Her 17th birthday would not go as planned, but only she and one other person knew it.
That other person was a stranger, with a sharp sword and a wicked smile.
Alvena did not sleep that night, not even daring to enter her chambers to feign rest. Instead, she found herself taking out her dagger to sharpen it again. She found herself lighting a lantern to retrieve her sword — “in case of emergencies” she had read — and the rest of her armor. She found herself preparing for the battle that she hoped would never come.
-
It did come, however. Quickly, but Alvena was ready. Her dagger was by her side and she tight plated armor that was fitted for a twelve-year-old rather than a sixteen-year-old, with her breathing somewhat restricted. Determination rang true on her face, however, as she waited for her friends to display some signs of alarm to tell her to fetch her sword and fight. A princess must always have her wits about her. She had been dreading this day since she had been locked up, but she hadn’t been certain.
“—porridge.” Meggy signed, eyebrows furrowed and a glint of concern in her blue eyes. Her signing of slower than normal, even for someone that wasn’t fully accustomed to the language.
Alvena shook her head, removing her hand from her side and instead signing, “Sorry, wasn’t paying attention. What?” Her own words more choppy than normal, but too many things weighed on her mind.
Meggy repeated, “Why haven’t you eaten your porridge?” She then moved her hands down to her hips in a disapproving position, with her lips curved in apparent disapproval. It was times like those when Alvena saw Meggy as older — a motherly maid all dressed in brown with a stained apron instead of a child two years her younger.
The silver bowl was on the floor by Alvena’s feet, still somewhat steaming but for the most part untouched. “Sorry again. I wasn’t really hungry, Meggy.” The girl’s sign name was a mash up between the mock of servant and of the genuine sign for friend, which fit Meggy quite nicely.
Meggy nodded, understanding. Although, understanding for the wrong reasons. “Back to the courts, correct? Seventeen and back to society.”
Alvena nodded and then leaned over to pick up the bowl, sharply noticing the constriction and pain in her ribs. Her armor hadn’t been fitted right and it honestly might have been better fitted on Meggy — even though Meggy was fifteen rather than twelve, she was still small. At least, according to Alvena’s skewed view of age. Being locked in a tower could do that to a person.
“Dreda comes back from her daily search soon.” Dreda’s name was simply ‘small dragon’, which their companion was somewhat offended by but had learned to accept over the past five years. “Maybe you will tell a story from your books to us? I can bake cake afterward.” Meggy’s cheeks flushed and Alvena then realized for the fiftieth time that her friend hadn’t been taught how to reach as a child.
“Of course!” Her words were falsely enthusiastic, however, as fear churned in the corner of her stomach.
-
Dreda came back a little after noon had passed, with wide eyes and a frantic tail that she swished about, knocking papers and tomes off of shelving. Her red scales were glittering and her snout was hot to touch. Alvena feared the worst while she waited for Meggy to translate Dreda’s English, and the worst came true. Meggy’s words were slower than before and a solemn look covered her face.
“A knight is coming to rescue you, bringing you back to the kingdom.” Meggy looked down at her stained apron, looked back up into Alvena’s eyes and continued. “He’s about to take you away from us and we can’t stop him, he’s too powerful.” Her sign started to become shakier and shakier, until the last few lines were hard to read at all.
“We’ll be fine,” Alvena signed stiffly, then gesturing down at the armor that she had struggle to put on, then continuing to bring attention to the sheath on her belt. “I’ll protect us.”
She lifted her gaze, so she could see Dreda who was holed up on the chair, trying hide away from the rest of the world. It was funny, considering that her parents had found one of the finest dragon trainees in order to protect their ‘oh so poor deaf daughter who couldn’t possibly fend for herself now that she couldn’t hear’. The buying of a dragon was ridiculous, but she had gained a friend and some company to live with her in the drafty tower, so who was she to complain?
“How?” Meggy asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Alvena marched over to the burning fireplace and took the fire iron out of the stand, extending it out for her maid. Meggy took it, although hesitantly with worry still written all over the front of her face.
“Skewer them,” Alvena signed.
-
Alvena watched as Dreda waited by the stairs, the spikes on her tail swishing back and forth in the air as she waited for the knight to arrive. The dragon looked oddly determined, with yellow eyes not once straying from her intended position. Oddly focused for such a catlike creature. Alvena debated tossing over a few feathers to see if Dreda’s attention would waver, but she wasn’t one to bet her own life like that.
Although, the thought was amusing to entertain.
She snapped her gaze back to Meggy, who had set down the fire iron that she had previously been twirling in her fingers. Meggy’s gaze was accusatory, “You weren’t surprised. You were expecting this. Witchcraft, correct?” Sharper than usual, faster than usual, more betrayed than usual. “Seer magic, Alvena. You didn’t want us to know?”
Alvena’s own name was the sign for princess, combined with ‘deaf’. A crown by the ear.
“No, no, no.” Alvena signed, “Yes and no. Witchcraft with good intentions. I also wanted you to know, Meggy. Believe me. It was sudden, I didn’t cause it—” But Meggy stopped maintaining eye contact, instead looking over to Dreda with alarm.
He was there. Coming up the stairs. The door had been left open, with bloodstained snow left in his wake. His feet would drag up the steps, as he tried to search for his beautiful princess. If she could remember what clunking sounded like, then she would have bet that his sword did that against the steps.
She turned around, drawing her sword and getting ready to fight. I’m not leaving here until I’m ready, she thought. And no one can make me go back to the courts. They cast me out at a moment’s notice, what would stop them from taking me back here and locking me up again? Her hands started to sweat and she was painfully aware that she had never had the ability to take up sword fighting lessons. She didn’t even have any books telling her about the technique. ‘In case of emergencies,’ was the sentence that she had read on her mother’s lips. What am I supposed to do in emergencies if I can even fight properly?
She swallowed that back and tried to level with the sword, not even looking back at Meggy to continue the conversation. They could talk about it later, after the fight was over. They could talk about it after they had both convinced the knight to go back where he came from. They could talk about it later.
Alvena didn’t expect the fact that the knight might be quicker on his feet than her dragon was, she didn’t expect that with wins, there would be losses. Alvena didn’t expect a sharp sword, polished armor, and someone actually young. She didn’t expect that she would be able to see his face at all, with his messy hair.
She didn’t really expect that Dreda would be distracted, she didn’t really expect the ally to be skewered. But that happened in front of her eyes, within seconds.
Dreda’s face had turned toward her, with eyes wide and mouth open spurting one last bit of flame. Alvena’s vision turned to dust inside of her head, no longer seeing the reality of her friend fighting by her side with glorious fire. Scales in a heap on the floor, as the girl transformed into a dragon protector would no longer be able to do her task.
The sword twisted and then exited her friend’s neck, gleaming with blood. (Red blood trickled down red scales, spilling into an upsetting pool on the stone floor. Life spilled from a dead body, never to return. Sad, really.) The knight looked triumphant, as if he had slain a terrible beast instead of a near and dear friend. His mouth moved in an odd fashion and Alvena couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, but she didn’t want to either.
She wanted to stab him and then through him out of the tower, to watch as his back hit the bramble bushes below.
Alvan couldn’t understand how it had happened so fast.
“_ ____ _____ the beast, __ love! ___ ___ saved. _e my bride.” Only a few words here and there, with a glint of accomplishment shining through his blue eyes. He slid his sword back into his sheath, extending his hand out in what Alvena could have considered to be a friendly matter. He looked eager, young, with the entire world at his fingertips.
She shook her head and stepped back, raising her sword to his neck.
Only Meggy intervened just in time, going to confront the man as she had her hands balled into fists of absolute rage. The fire iron had probably been cast on the floor, forgotten about. Fists as weapons.
Meggy started to yell, at least, Alvena suspected that. She took the distraction of her servant in order to rush over to Dreda, whose last moments had already past in the few seconds that it took the princess process everything that had transpired. The only thing Alvena could do was caress Dreda’s scales and attempt to hold back sobs.
She didn’t know about the knight’s true intentions, but she was right, there would be a battle.
