'The child shall be bestowed upon the king
A painful ending, she shall bring
To replace the Prince who ceases to live
Only to be cursed by who doesn’t forgive
As a symbol of ignorance, she will die
And kill with her the royal bloodline.’
The oracle had spoken. The child would be cursed and was bound to die. She would be the cause of the king's death, as well. The old man in the hooded black cloak knew this, and yet he ventured across the country, through forests and mountains, across rivers and deserts, to deliver her to the royal family. The queen’s baby would die at birth and, still in denial, the king and queen would welcome this child gratefully to replace what they had just lost. “She’s a gift. A miracle!” they’d say, holding the child in their arms and smiling ever so slightly through their teary eyes. They would swear an oath to never mention the truth of the events of that day to a single soul and take in the child as their own, utterly oblivious to the prophecy that the Oracle had voiced.
The old man walked through the castle gates, unseen by the slumbering guards, and carried the baby girl to the front steps of the castle’s main doors. Under the dim light of the twinkling stars in the moonless sky, he carefully placed her down and took a step back. The child, wrapped with the old man’s shawl in a tight bundle, was fast asleep. He looked at her innocent face, unable to feel the resentment he knew he should. This girl would be the reason behind the destined fall of the royals of Aedis. She would be to blame when his country was faced with the lack of a ruler. The old man couldn’t help but smile. She would be to blame for when the commoners of Aedis finally got the justice they deserved.