An Alternate Slice of Reality
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The Lake
A Knight's Tale Part 3
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It was rather terrifying to see her form standing there. This was my mother, but I felt nothing for her at all. I just felt afraid. I did not reach out for my father’s hand. He would have slapped it away. He was not beyond offering comfort. But it could never be requested.
Spoiler
She stood there, staring at the lake, then abruptly turned to face us and scowled. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I was unsure of what would happen next. But my father did not seem worried, and I found that calming. The air still felt thick and woven. I had trouble breathing at first, but this passed as I focused on the future possibilities. She stood silently and then everything became motionless.
“Mind that you never forget who you are,” said my father quietly. “Your mother’s voice shall become like a noose, if you ever forget who you are.”
“Watch her and listen to me,” he said, “and I will tell her story.”
I kept my eyes on the figure on the dock as I listened to my father’s now whispering voice. The form began to move.
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“Your mother’s people were the watchers in the woods. They were the people who saw the spans of time and the spans of other dimensions. They were the ones who learned to walk beyond the borders of their realities, and travel into the possibilities of all things. They were the people who carried traveling magick in their blood. Your mother was born into a set of triples. The third borne. Not destined to be Queen but destined to hold a high rank. It is the way with her people. For all the generations of her tribe, the Queen has always borne 3 daughters, at a single time: One for the future, one for the present, and one for the past. “
“The Queen’s line has never been broken or mottled. The Queen has always born 3 daughters, arriving together. For as long as records have been kept, and perhaps longer still. The remaining sisters also only bare daughters, but to them, the daughters come one at a time. They only ever have one daughter. And that one daughter never has children. It is the way of the magick, so not to dilute. Single daughters never carried the magick. Only the triples.”
He smiled again and patted my hand. When I protested that this statement was not true and that I also carried the magick and I was not a triple, he shushed me and reminded me that I was an aberration. He then stressed that no one else needed to know that I carried any magick, and it would be better if I never mentioned again. I held my tongue, and the form grew closer.
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Father told me that my mother’s gifting had been to traverse into the pathways of the past. She could see the strands and shift them. She could change the course of history. Not by changing the now moments which existed in the past, but rather, by changing the flow of what those now moments became.
“This is how the Lake became the past. It is full of your mother and her magick. It is bound with the past. People who swim in the lake become obsessed with their past and forget that they have a future. You must always take caution when dealing with the lake.”
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I asked him what had happened to my mother. He sighed and told me that she had tried to kill me on the day of my birth because I was an aberration. His marriage to her had been an arrangement, he said. She had not loved my father, nor did he love her. It was an attempt to give the Queen’s line a son at birth, to strengthen the lineage. The Queen’s family were unhappy with their power. They wanted the Kingship. My father went along with their attempt. When I asked why, he said it was because he loved the Queen instead of my mother. And the Queen had promised him things if he helped with their plan. I wanted to know what things, but father said I was too young to understand the things. He said when I was older it would make better sense.
The attempt was made. The Queen’s family had tried to gain a son and had failed. A single daughter was borne instead. My mother was furious. Father said that she asked the cook to boil me and give her my heart to eat. The cook refused because it was an insane request and ran to tell my father. My father hurried to the nursery to find my mother with her hands wrapped around my neck, in the very act of killing me. Father said that he would spare me the gory details but that he had managed to pull me away from my mother and had handed me off to the cook, who had followed him to the nursery. The cook carried me out into the rainy night while my mother and father fought. That was when he killed her. He killed her, he said, because he loved me, and he did not love my mother.
My father made a motion with his hand. And the spectre of my mother came down to where we knelt.
She scowled at me and I heard a voice within my boundaries.
Well, well. What have we here? Looks like a little bit of a thing that is not a son. Just a kind of girl thing. How utterly disappointing you are.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53146269525_cd1f2cc598_c.jpg
“Mind that you never forget who you are,” said my father quietly. “Your mother’s voice shall become like a noose, if you ever forget who you are.”
“Watch her and listen to me,” he said, “and I will tell her story.”
I kept my eyes on the figure on the dock as I listened to my father’s now whispering voice. The form began to move.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53145257572_6897b6b794_c.jpg
“Your mother’s people were the watchers in the woods. They were the people who saw the spans of time and the spans of other dimensions. They were the ones who learned to walk beyond the borders of their realities, and travel into the possibilities of all things. They were the people who carried traveling magick in their blood. Your mother was born into a set of triples. The third borne. Not destined to be Queen but destined to hold a high rank. It is the way with her people. For all the generations of her tribe, the Queen has always borne 3 daughters, at a single time: One for the future, one for the present, and one for the past. “
“The Queen’s line has never been broken or mottled. The Queen has always born 3 daughters, arriving together. For as long as records have been kept, and perhaps longer still. The remaining sisters also only bare daughters, but to them, the daughters come one at a time. They only ever have one daughter. And that one daughter never has children. It is the way of the magick, so not to dilute. Single daughters never carried the magick. Only the triples.”
He smiled again and patted my hand. When I protested that this statement was not true and that I also carried the magick and I was not a triple, he shushed me and reminded me that I was an aberration. He then stressed that no one else needed to know that I carried any magick, and it would be better if I never mentioned again. I held my tongue, and the form grew closer.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53145257567_4dc8e9f40e_c.jpg
Father told me that my mother’s gifting had been to traverse into the pathways of the past. She could see the strands and shift them. She could change the course of history. Not by changing the now moments which existed in the past, but rather, by changing the flow of what those now moments became.
“This is how the Lake became the past. It is full of your mother and her magick. It is bound with the past. People who swim in the lake become obsessed with their past and forget that they have a future. You must always take caution when dealing with the lake.”
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53037555729_fe5654b26b_c.jpg
I asked him what had happened to my mother. He sighed and told me that she had tried to kill me on the day of my birth because I was an aberration. His marriage to her had been an arrangement, he said. She had not loved my father, nor did he love her. It was an attempt to give the Queen’s line a son at birth, to strengthen the lineage. The Queen’s family were unhappy with their power. They wanted the Kingship. My father went along with their attempt. When I asked why, he said it was because he loved the Queen instead of my mother. And the Queen had promised him things if he helped with their plan. I wanted to know what things, but father said I was too young to understand the things. He said when I was older it would make better sense.
The attempt was made. The Queen’s family had tried to gain a son and had failed. A single daughter was borne instead. My mother was furious. Father said that she asked the cook to boil me and give her my heart to eat. The cook refused because it was an insane request and ran to tell my father. My father hurried to the nursery to find my mother with her hands wrapped around my neck, in the very act of killing me. Father said that he would spare me the gory details but that he had managed to pull me away from my mother and had handed me off to the cook, who had followed him to the nursery. The cook carried me out into the rainy night while my mother and father fought. That was when he killed her. He killed her, he said, because he loved me, and he did not love my mother.
My father made a motion with his hand. And the spectre of my mother came down to where we knelt.
She scowled at me and I heard a voice within my boundaries.
Well, well. What have we here? Looks like a little bit of a thing that is not a son. Just a kind of girl thing. How utterly disappointing you are.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53146269525_cd1f2cc598_c.jpg
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