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The first was perhaps the ugliest that Fate had ever woven, for too much of it was gray, and purpled like a bruise. And yet it was one that Fate had taken his time with, every thread sewed with precision as he crafted this cruel gift for his brother: a woman Death would love but could never have.
He needed to know. Needed to see this girl with threads of silver, this Signa Farrow, for himself. And so Fate grabbed his hat and gloves, and he went to crash a party.
Never had she seen this man, yet she knew who he was the moment his molten stare pressed into her.
“You may have reign over the dead and dying, but let’s not forget that it’s my hand that controls the fates of the living. For as long as she breathes, this one is mine.”
Gundry’s ears flattened. He looked from her to the berries with a whine that Signa paid little mind
I don't think she has her powers anymore...
I wasn’t aware it existed.”
Because it doesn't lol
Too pretentious, said the prince while wandering the halls of his enormous, gilded palace.
Fate was a fool if he thought that she would ever leave Death. She loved him like the winter, resolute and all-consuming. Loved him with summer’s steadiness, and with the ferocity of nature itself.
“Whatever you are and whatever you can do, you are not who Fate expects you to be. You are still Signa Farrow, and I am not a good enough man to allow my brother to take you from me.”
She didn’t care to be a sunflower, unfurling her petals in the daylight for all to see. She would rather be an adorable little mushroom, thriving in the dark crevices where few ventured to look.
“My brother may be a nuisance, but I do not fear him. I do, however, fear you, Signa. I fear that someday you will break my heart.”
Too often the world did not consider women as people but as stepping stones for men. A woman was ostracized the moment she strayed from the prescribed path, left to fend for herself in a world with too few opportunities.
“You are mine.” The words were not possession, but a promise. “For as long as you’ll have me, you are mine, Signa Farrow. I will burn this world to cinders before I let anyone take you from me.”
“My love for you is not confined to time, nor fate,” she continued. “It is a love that I will hold with me for an eternity, which is why I am not afraid. I swear to you that I will always be yours, even when I am not.”
“Because you never specified who had to be your bride.”
oh snap!
Are you not proud of your wife’s cleverness?”
Memories was the wrong word for what these images in her head really were, because they didn’t belong to her.
“And now the show begins.”
